


Travellers' Tales, Series 1 - On the Shores of the Cosmic Ocean

by Soledad



Series: Travellers' Tales [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Awesome Toshiko Sato, F/M, Gratutious Star Trek references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tosh wants to see her mother, who visits the festival of ceremony and remembrance of the life and death of 12th century Heike warriors at the Akama Shrine in Shimonoseki every year on the 24th of April. The TARDIS chooses to malfunction again, and they end up in the 12th century instead, in the middle of the Battle of Dan-no-ura. They are captured by the victorious Minamoto forces, and Tosh takes an interest in the young general Minamoto no Yoshitsune. Will such an out-of-time romance have a chance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Introduction**

This story was inspired by the secondary plot idea from **Special Unit 3** , in which Tosh gets to travel with the Doctor (that time Ten) until they're waiting for Ianto to give birth to the baby, before they could turn him back into a man. It's a crackfic, which you can read right here, if you're interested and want a laugh or two.

In any case, it's a known fact that - in linear time - Tosh had actually met the Doctor (nine) _before_ Jack did. And watching "The Aliens of London" made me realize what a great team Tosh and Nine would be. So I tried to find a loophole where I could send Tosh with him on an adventure. Or two. Or three.

By that time, Tosh had already been working for Jack for almost 2 years, if I interpret the timeline correctly (and if I don't, then I'll just declare this an AU). So, since the TARDIS travels in time, I decided to insert Tosh's travels right after "The Aliens of London", assuming that she'd return to her own timeline after 2 or 3 days, which would be possible if Jack gave her the weekend off.

Also, I assumed that Rose would want to spend the same weekend with her family and Mickey, before setting off with the Doctor again. It's perhaps a bit forced, but that was the best I could come up with.

As for the adventures of Tosh, I thought they'd have a different character. Tosh is a scientist, a computer genius, so her interest would be a lot more scientific in nature, getting her to much more geeky places. So I took Carl Sagan's "Cosmos"-series as a guideline, which is basically a popular scientific one, and based Tosh's adventures on some of the things you can see there. Some of the titles are from the "Cosmos" episodes as well. If you have a chance, hunt down the series and watch it. Some parts might be a bit outdated by now, but it's still an excellent one.

Below you can see the rough outline of the series. Some parts of it are still more than a bit vague, but I hope that time and discussion would inspire me to come up with a good plot. Suggestions (for plot and titles), comments and questions are very welcome.

And now I have babbled enough - on with the story!


	2. Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tosh and the Doctor set off to their first adventure; unfortunately, the TARDIS is having one of her hickups... with _interesting_ results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular serial is based on the 3rd episode of Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos” series. Consequently, the approach on “The Tale of the Heike” might be grossly simplified. But again, it was only an excuse to get Tosh where she ended up. Different sources give the day of the battle as the 24th or the 25th of April, respectively – I chose to go with Sagan’s version.
> 
> Also, at this point of the timeline, Tosh doesn’t know yet what a perception filter is. The one hiding Torchwood Three’s invisible lift will be established half a year later, during the episode “Boom Town”. And the bicycle pump is _really_ attached to the central console of the TARDIS, believe me or not.
> 
> Beta read by the generous

**PART ONE – OUT OF TIME**

It seemed to Tosh that only seconds had gone by when the wheezing, groaning noise of the engines stopped and the TARDIS became quiet and ceased shaking.

“We’re here?” she asked uncertainly.

“We’re here,” the Doctor assured her with a broad grin and tossed the doors of the TARDIS open. “April twenty-four, Akama Shrine, as requested. All yours. Come, take a look!”

Tosh didn’t need a second invitation; although it didn’t mean she’d throw caution to the wind entirely, either. She approached the door carefully, ready to jump back in case anything unexpected would happen, and put out her head to take a peek.

The sight made her frown. She’d never been to Akama Shrine herself, not even as a child (her father hadn’t been much of a traditionalist, either), but she knew, in theory – and from photos sent her by her mother – what it was supposed to look like, with its bright red front gate, situated on the waterfront of the Kanmon Strait, between the centre of Shimonoseki and the tourist restaurants of Karato, Kanmon Wharf.

She couldn’t see any of those famous features here. And while there seemed to be a long pilgrimage of people, all heading in the same direction, something wasn’t quite right with them. Their clothes were different; simpler than one would expect traditionalists to dress up in for such an important festival, showing the signs of regular wear. The women lacked the usual, artfully coiffed hairdo, and there was a surprisingly high number of men clad as samurai warriors, which was unusual, to say the least.

Also, one could clearly hear the murmurs from the sea, which one shouldn’t be able to do, had they truly landed in present-day Shimonoseki.

“Doctor,” Tosh murmured. “Something is wrong here. I’m sure we’re not where we planned to go. Or rather _when_ we’d planned to arrive.”

“What?” the Doctor stepped closer to peek over her shoulder, which, being more than a head taller, was an easy thing for him to do.

“Look at the clothes,” Tosh pointed out. “They’re a lot more old-fashioned than what people would wear for an important social event. They look like… like everyday clothes, something that people would actually _wear_. And men don’t dress up like samurai warriors, either. It would be considered disrespectful.”

“What about the Shrine, then?” the Doctor asked with a frown.

Tosh shrugged. “I can’t see it anywhere. Perhaps we’ve landed in the wrong place… or it isn’t there _yet_.”

“Oh, drat!” the Doctor pulled her back and closed the door hurriedly. “If you’re right, then we’re having a problem. Apparently, the short-range guidance system’s malfunctioning again.”

“Meaning…?” Tosh was getting a really bad feeling about this.

“Meaning that while the TARDIS is extremely reliable when travelling great distances in space _or_ time, she can be somewhat… unpredictable when it comes to short-range travel,” the Doctor explained.

“Define _short-range_!” Tosh demanded, trying very hard not to panic.

“Well… short relative to the size of the Universe,” the Doctor admitted a bit reluctantly. “Blimey, and I thought I’d got it right the last time!”

“The last…” the urge to panic became completely overwhelming. “You mean this has happened before?”

“Oh, it happens all the time,” the doctor waved nonchalantly. “You see, she was old, decommissioned and derelict when I first got her, some five hundred-plus years ago… _my_ time, not yours.”

“When you… _got_ her,” Tosh repeated slowly.

The Doctor shrugged. “Unofficially borrowed her would be the polite way to put it, but quite frankly, I stole her from a junkyard.”

“And you invited me to travel in _that_?” Tosh screamed, losing it completely, and hammered his chest with her small fists. “You bloody freak, you knew it could break down any time, and you talked me into boarding it?”

“Hey, hey!” he caught her fists and pulled her into a protective embrace. “Don’t worry; it’s not the end of the journey; far from it. She’s not going to break down; she’s just a bit obsolete, that’s all. I’ll get you home by Monday, I promise, all right?”

“How?” Tosh asked, her voice muffled by his clothes as her face was pressed against his chest.

“We’ll repair her,” he answered as if that was the simplest thing in the universe; perhaps for _him_ , it actually was. “That’s what I’ve been doing all the time, for half a millennium, and I’m still here, aren’t I? Don’t worry; she might have her faults, but she’s completely indestructible.”

He rocked her in his arms as he would comfort a frightened child, and Tosh slowly regained her composure as she listened to his steady heartbeat.

 _Wait a minute_ … Steady, yes, but way too fast and somewhat arrhythmic. And… she pressed her ear directly to his chest, trying to figure out what might be wrong with him but couldn’t find an explanation.

“Do you have a heart condition?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “this is quite normal for me. I’m not a human, you see. I’m a Time Lord. We’ve got a different cardiovascular system.”

“How different?” Tosh was still pressed against him listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“A binary one,” he replied simply. “We’ve got two hearts; one on the left side, one on the right side. Decentralized circulatory system, too. Comes in handy in case of injuries.”

“I can imagine that.” Tosh finally realized that she was all but glued to his front and hurriedly withdrew, beet red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“Don’t be,” the Doctor grinned at her conspiratorially. “There’s nothing wrong with a little scientific curiosity. I guess it doesn’t happen to you every day that you’d meet a nine-hundred-year-old chap with two hearts.”

“Not really,” Tosh admitted; then the new piece of information sank in. “ _How_ old?”

“Nine hundred,” the Doctor replied simply. “Doesn’t count as particularly ancient among my people.”

“Who’re called the Time Lords,” Tosh said a little sceptically.

The Doctor nodded. “Yep. We’re time travellers, after all. So don’t worry. This isn’t the first time the TARDIS has become a little capricious, but I always reached my destination, eventually. And so will you. I promise.”

“All right,” Tosh said, because she couldn’t really think of anything useful to say. “What are we doing now?”

“Two choices,” he counted them down on his fingers. “One: we repair the short-range guidance system and leave here as soon as we’re done. Two: we take a look, determine when and where we are, perhaps see something no-one else would ever get the chance to see again, and _then_ repair the system. It’s up to you.”

“What about this?” Tosh said. “We repair the system now, just in case we’d need to leave in a hurry, and _then_ we take a look at whatever is going on outside.”

The Doctor’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed. “Toshiko Sato, you’ve got a true sense for adventure. Let’s do it!”

“Wait, wait!” Tosh tried to slow him down a little, because really, there were several practical problems he seemed to leave completely out of consideration. “What if the people here are hostile towards strangers? Would a London police box not draw unwanted attention?”

“No,” the Doctor replied. “I’ve engaged the perception filter.”

“The _what_?” the sense of having stepped into the twilight zone came up again.

“It’s a field generated by the TARDIS that convinces people to ignore it,” the Doctor explained. “So, even if people stare directly at it, they don’t see the object it surrounds, unless it draws too much attention to itself, or if someone is specifically searching for the object in question. Which is rather unlikely here, I think.”

“Well, let’s hope it really works,” Tosh said a little sceptically. “Now, how can I help you with the repairs?”

“You can’t,” the Doctor said simply. Tosh felt a bit insulted.

“Don’t be so sure about _that_. I’ve surprised other people before when it came to alien technology.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” the Doctor said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And just how many broken vortex loop controls have you repaired during your years in the mysterious Torchwood?”

“It depends,” Tosh replied calmly… _a lot_ more calmly than she actually felt, truth be told. “Which one is that?”

“The one right before you,” the Doctor answered.

Tosh looked at the supposedly broken control – and started giggling, almost hysterically.

“Oh, my!” she wheezed, tearing up in hilarity. “You use a _bicycle pump_ to control the bloody time vortex? And you’re surprised that your time machine malfunctions?”

“Hey!” the Doctor seemed a little insulted. “It’s a minor setback, all right? Besides, it isn’t as if I could go back to my homeworld for spare parts.”

“Why not?” Tosh asked. “Are you still wanted on your planet for stealing the TARDIS… how long ago was it again?”

“Five hundred and fifty years, give or take a few… _my_ time, not yours,” the Doctor said. “And no, I’m no longer wanted on my home planet. It’s the acute lack of a _planet_ that makes acquiring spare parts a little… complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Tosh frowned. “What happened to your planet?”

“Gone,” the Doctor said, his eyes haunted. “Destroyed in the Time War, with every single one of my people. I’m the last of the Time Lords… there won’t be others of my kind ever again.”

Tosh was shocked. And she’d thought _she_ had it bad? Sure, she’d gone through some very rough times, but what was that compared with losing _everyone_? Not just loved ones, immediate family, but one’s entire _species_? Her mind boggled from the enormity of it, and her heart went out to this lonely, tormented man who only had his ghosts to accompany him.

No wonder he wanted a travelling companion to distract him.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

He gave her a small, gentle smile that somehow reminded her of her late father, even though, physically or in mannerisms, no-one could be more different from the quiet, withdrawn Kimitake Sato.

“It wasn’t your fault,” was all that he said.

“I know,” Tosh still felt a little uncomfortable about having asked him such deeply personal questions; she’d been taught in her childhood that doing so was indiscreet and impolite. “I just… I just assumed that your companion… I mean, the real one, not me… that she was of your own kind, that’s all.”

He laughed heartily at that. “Oh, no, she’s just a young shop girl I happened to save from being killed by the Autons almost by accident. She wanted to see something other than the dull life she was leading, complete with an embarrassing, overbearing mother and an idiot boyfriend, and I… I don’t like to travel alone. So we made a deal: she’d travel with me for a while, see strange new worlds, have an adventure or two… and I’d return her home within twelve hours. Unfortunately…”

“… the short-range guidance system was acting up,” Tosh finished for him, getting the picture. “How much later did you get her back?”

“Twelve _months_ ,” he admitted sheepishly.

Tosh groaned. “You can’t be serious! If I arrive at work a _year_ later than I ought to, I won’t have to worry about my future anymore. I’ll be back to prison for the rest of my life!”

“Prison?” he repeated in apparent shock. “You were in _prison_? What for?”

“High treason,” Tosh shrugged. “I built something I shouldn’t have for some terrorists in exchange for my mother’s life. Since they were holding her hostage, I didn’t really have any other choice. Unfortunately, the authorities didn’t see it that way.”

“Which is why your boss won’t allow you any actual contact with her,” the Doctor began to understand things.

Tosh nodded. “Yeah. She’s a liability; or rather _I am_ , since I held her life in higher regard than the security of my country.”

The Doctor frowned. “You were in a Japanese prison then?”

“No,” Tosh answered flatly, “a UNIT one… not that they’d ever admit it exists. I’m a British citizen. That is, I used to be, before my rights as a citizen were withdrawn. Before they locked me up for indefinite time, without charges, without legal support, without contact with anything or anyone outside of my cell.”

“ _UNIT_ did that to you?” he asked, clearly shocked. “How could they… since when do such things fall under their jurisdiction?”

“There was alien technology involved,” Tosh replied tiredly. “Look, can we not discuss this right now? The memories still give me nightmares, and if we don’t repair this derelict time machine of yours, they can become reality for me again.”

“No need to worry, we’ll get her up and running in no time,” the Doctor lay down on his back and slid under the control panel with practiced ease. He really must have done this often. “Let me take a look… Oh, all right, it’s not as bad as I thought. It seems I repaired the old girl well enough the last time,” he came back to his feet again, his hair flecked with dust; it was a comical sight. “Only the vortex loop controller is broken.”

“Well, this must be your lucky day, then,” Tosh said. “Because I’ve repaired my fair share of broken bicycle pumps when I was a child, in Osaka. My father taught me how to do it, and I think I still remember the basics. Do you have a screwdriver on you?”

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor proudly produced a thing that looked like a thick fever thermometer. “A _sonic_ screwdriver!”

“Great,” Tosh said. “I’m very good with sonic technology, as you’ll see. However, a simple tool would be of more use right now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Of course, the repairs took a bit more than just fixing a broken bicycle pump, but with a united effort, they eventually got the short-range guidance system into working order again.

“Fantastic!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Let’s go exploring!”

Tosh grabbed his arm to stop him. “Doctor, we really should try to blend in with the crowd if we’re going out there. I don’t know how far in the past we’ve actually landed, but as a rule, my people didn’t take it kindly when strangers appeared out of thin air in their midst. Or do you have a perception filter we can put on and remain invisible?”

“Afraid not,” the Doctor grinned, “But I have a fantastic wardrobe aboard. We _will_ find the right clothes to blend in; the TARDIS will see to it.”

“We’ll need to find out the actual time period first, though,” Tosh warned him. “Wearing the wrong period clothing would raise suspicions. And believe me, if those samurais out there are the real thing, you don’t want to make them suspicious – unless Time Lords can grow a new head, of course.”

“Never tried _that_ trick yet,” the Doctor said, “nor have I heard of it happening to any other Time Lords. So let’s not take unnecessary risks, shall we? After all, we’ve got a perfectly good scanner on board, complete with a display screen, to examine the exterior environment before we leave the ship.”

“Scanners?” Tosh’s eyes started gleaming at the thought of _that_.

The Doctor nodded. “Let’s put them to good use, shall we?”

He switched on the scanners with the help of something that looked suspiciously like a glass paperweight, and the display came alive at once. Well, at least _some_ of the board systems seemed to work as they were supposed to. However, that – otherwise appreciated – fact didn’t help them much.

“This is useless,” Tosh muttered, trying to make heads or tails of the clothes the people were wearing. “This could be anywhen between the twelfth and the fourteenth century! I’m not that good at the fine details of fashion history. If you only had a time scanner on this bloody time ship, it would come in handy. What?” she asked, mildly irritated, because the Doctor was staring at her with something akin to admiration.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “What an imbecile I am! We can activate the location search modus in a tenth dimension vortex and find out the exact time of our landing, down to the nanosecond!”

“You mean you actually _do_ have a time scanner?” Tosh asked suspiciously, because the nerd-speak didn’t really make any sense to her.

“Yep!” the Doctor replied happily. “I’d just forgotten about it.”

Tosh shook her head in exasperation, still not entirely sure that he wasn’t making up all that gibberish on the spot, but then decided that she didn’t really want to know. Sometimes ignorance _was_ bliss.

“Well what are you waiting for then?” was all she asked. “The sooner you do it, the faster we can go out and explore the past a bit.”

The Doctor grinned at her, almost manically, manipulated the glass paperweight (or whatever it truly was) a little, and in the next moment, strange symbols popped up on the scanner display.

“What the hell is this?” Tosh asked. “I’m familiar with quite a few languages, even alien ones, but I’ve never seen writing like this.”

“It’s Gallifreyan,” the Doctor replied, without checking. “My mother tongue. The telepathic field of the TARDIS usually translates every language for me _and_ for my travelling companions, even writing… _except_ Gallifreyan. I don’t need a translation, naturally, and the TARDIS doesn’t share the language with foreigners.”

“Why not?" Tosh asked in surprise. The Doctor shrugged.

“I’ve really no idea. She seems to have her own mind in some cases. You see, she’s alive and intelligent to a degree… even sentimental sometimes. I’ve learned to respect her little quirks. They actually make her more personable.”

Tosh looked at him with more than a little doubt but accepted the statement… with a grain of salt. After all, Torchwood Three’s Mainframe also counted as semi-intelligent, even alive, so why shouldn’t the TARDIS, which was, after all, more than five hundred years old, have her own will? Organic technology was something she was still only beginning to understand, while the Doctor had apparently worked with it all his unnaturally long life. Well, unnatural for humans, anyway.

“What does it say, then?” she asked, a little impatiently.

The Doctor leaned over her shoulder to take a look.

“Oh!” he said with a sharp intake of breath. “It says twenty-fourth of April eleven-eighty-five. If we hurry up, we can see your ancestors lose the Battle of Dannoura.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
To say that Tosh was thunderstruck upon hearing _that_ would have been the understatement of the century.

“But how is that possible?” she asked several minutes later, when she regained her ability to speak again. “How could we have landed on the very day on which the battle was – or rather _will be_ – lost?”

“Well, it was the day we originally aimed for,” the Doctor reminded her, “and you were telling me about the battle while I was setting the controls.”

“You mean I’ve somehow voice-activated something?” she asked doubtfully.

He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work that way. But the TARDIS does share a bond with those who travel in her… perhaps she felt a strong emotional reaction in you to the events you were describing. I’m not sure. If that’s the reason, then she’d bonded awfully quickly with you. I’ve never seen her accept any of my companions quite so fast; none that weren’t family, that is.”

There was some age-old pain in his voice when he mentioned his family, and Tosh wisely refrained from asking.

“But why would she accept me so quickly?” she asked instead.

The Doctor grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Well, you _did_ call her the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, didn’t you? Every lady appreciates a heartfelt compliment.”

“I also called her a derelict,” Tosh pointed out.

The Doctor laughed. “That doesn’t count; you were upset and frightened. She understands.”

“If you say so,” Tosh muttered darkly. “Well, if we don’t want to miss the battle, we’ll have to hurry up. Where’s that wardrobe of yours?”

“Not mine; the TARDIS’s” the Doctor corrected, pointing at one of the doors leading out of the console room. “First left, second right, third on the left, go straight under the stairs, pass the bins, fifth door on your left. You can’t miss it.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
As soon as she stepped through the doorway, Tosh began to seriously doubt _that_ statement. The interior of the TARDIS was vast, a literal labyrinth. How on Earth was she supposed to find the wardrobe in this confusing conglomerate of corridors, stairways, sliding doors and open rooms?

 _First left_ , something echoed in her mind, and she obediently followed the mental instruction, taking the first corridor on her left. It looked exactly like the other ones, which didn’t help clearing up her confusion a bit.

 _Second right_ , the suggestion continued, and she turned in to the second corridor on the right, wondering whether it was her own memory, the TARDIS’s telepathic field or the Doctor using some arcane Time Lord technology to manipulate her.

 _Go straight under the stairs_ , the next instruction came, accompanied by mental laughter, and as she followed, she could see the bins – were those really garbage bins? On a _spaceship_? – she was supposed to pass. Now all she needed to do was to count to five and enter through the fifth door.

 _Very good_ , came the soundless approval, and the sliding door retracted before her, allowing her entrance into a large, multi-levelled room with a helical staircase. And while she wasn’t the kind of woman that got excited by the sight of clothes – not as a rule anyway – the sheer infinity of choices took her breath away. There were clothes from _everywhere_ , from every fashion period on Earth… and most likely from different planets, too, in all sizes, colours and styles. The enormity of the wardrobe – not to mention its confusing disarray – would have put _Harrods_ to shame.

As if in a trance, she walked along the aisles and shelves, following directions she wasn’t even aware she was getting, finally reaching a section that contained twelfth century Japanese clothing. Fortunately, the offer of _those_ was somewhat limited (or just recently created; she was beginning to understand that with he TARDIS, practically _everything_ was possible), consisting of several versions originally worn by the ladies of the imperial court. Those were perhaps the only templates stored away in the TARDIS’s memory banks. 

She wondered briefly whether it would be such a good idea to appear on the site of a soon-to-be-lost battle clad as a member of the losing side, but her choices were limited indeed. It was still better than her jeans and the little red silk top she’d been wearing when the Doctor picked her up in St. James’s Park.

She chose a robe of heavy scarlet and white silk and the traditional _nagabakama_ , a pair of long pants that had used to drag behind the wearer, just like the robes did… and had her difficulties putting them on properly without help. Apparently, imperial ladies of the Heian period did have plenty of servants to get them clad. Both the sweeping robes and the pants had been clearly made for people kneeling or crawling on the floor most of the time; walking in them would be a serious pain in the backside. She found the pins meant to hold up the pants to ankle level while walking on the street, fastened them and made a heroic effort to get back to the console room without breaking her neck.

“And my mother wonders why I _hate_ traditional garments,” she muttered darkly. “At least they didn’t have those stupid beehive hairdos back in the twelfth century. I could never produce one of those without professional help.”

“You look absolutely fantastic,” the Doctor assured her with a broad grin.

He’d found the time to change into something more appropriate for the period, too and was now wearing the elaborate black overgarment and hat of a clerk, with wide, white pants and an richly embroidered golden girdle, holding a large book under one arm. Tosh was grateful that he’d had the common sense _not_ to dress up as a warrior; although, as much as she’d seen of his attitude towards violence, perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising.

She smiled at him. “You look dashing, too. Should we brave the battle site? Although I’m not sure what excuse we can come up with for being there in the first place.”

“Court ladies of the Heian period are known for writing poetry,” he reminded her. “You can always claim you’ve come to write an epic poem about the battle… and brought your personal clerk with you.”

“Did Heian court ladies have personal clerks at all?” Tosh asked doubtfully. “Especially male ones?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I can pretend to be your tutor, then. Or you can always claim extravagance.”

“Yeah, ‘cos I’m known to have extravagant tendencies,” Tosh said wryly.

“These people can’t know _that_ ,” the Doctor reminded her. “So, lead on, noble lady!”

Tosh shook her head. “No. You’re the man; custom demands that you go first, especially if you’re supposed to be my tutor. Go on, I’ll follow.”

“A foolish custom, considering that I’m a stranger here,” the Doctor complained.

Tosh laughed. “Oh, believe me, Doctor, as far as the traditions of my people are concerned, I’m every bit as alien as you are. But let’s go anyway. If we’re here, I don’t want to miss anything.”


	3. Lady Moriko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sagan uses the names Heike and Genji for the clans Taira and Minamoto, respectively. Those are different versions of the same thing, I was given to understand, and both genuine. So, I’ll switch to the Taira/Minamoto version from now on, because that’s how the names of the historic individuals appearing in the following parts of the story usually begin. Yeah, I know it’s confusing. I’m having a headache about it myself. The whole chapter is a bit talkative, but it couldn’t be avoided, in order to set up the scene for the adventure properly.
> 
> Beta read by the generous badly_knitted.

PART TWO – LADY MORIKO

Tosh was extremely nervous as she followed the Doctor out of the TARDIS. As exciting as it could be to witness a nine-hundred-year-gone historic event with one’s own eyes, she was well aware of how dangerous such a situation could become.

They tried to blend in with the crowd heading towards the harbour, where the ships of the Taira were gathered to face their sworn enemies, the Minamoto. For a while, they could follow the marching warriors unnoticed; but then, a middle-aged man in the usual black tunic of an imperial clerk spotted them – and nearly fainted at the sight of Tosh.

“Lady Moriko!” he exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Tosh asked in confusion, grateful for the TARDIS’s telepathic field that enabled her to speak nine-hundred-year-old Japanese.

The clerk stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment.

“But… but you’ve been missing ever since the imperial court fled westwards after the Battle of Yoshima!” he said. “You were thought dead!”

“It seems that people were mistaken,” Tosh said, trying feverishly to remember details from _The Tale of the Heike_ , the epic account of the struggle between the Taira and Minamoto clans for control of Japan in the Genpei War. Her mother had used to read the _Heike Monogatari_ to her as a child over and over again, but that had been more than fifteen years previously, and she’d simply forgotten a lot since then.

“But how did you escape?” the clerk asked. “And where have you been all this time? The other _miko_ of Kamo Shrine have been sick with worry for you.”

“My… mentor helped me escape,” Tosh waved with her fan in the vague direction of the Doctor. “We have tried to follow the court, as returning to the shrine did seem more dangerous at the time. But even so, it was a difficult journey.”

“Oh, I can imagine _that_ ; wearing the garment gifted upon you by the Lady Nii,” the clerk exclaimed. “It must have made you a target of every Minamoto warrior that came your way.”

“We had to do our best not to be spotted by them,” Tosh admitted, trying to make up things as she was going, grateful – for the first time in her life – for her mother’s traditionalist interests. 

At least she knew what Kamo Shrine was, and that the Lady Moriko, whom she apparently resembled, must have been a _miko_ , affiliated with that shrine. A seer and prophetess; presumably one of those women who lived in the shrine and went into trances, conveying the words of the gods. If that was true, the position of the Lady Moriko would mean a certain level of protection for her. Unless this particular _miko_ had been closely associated with he Taira Clan… which, unfortunately, seemed to be the case. But it could not be helped.

“As I said, we often had to hide,” she said, “since my less… offensive clothes were lost in the troubles. Fortunately, my mentor knows methods to stay out of harm’s way.”

“Oh, most certainly,” the clerk agreed, bowing to the Doctor deeply. “Taro no Tanaka, it’s a great honour to have you among us. Your fame precedes you; but we’d never hoped to see you face to face, knowing that you do not like to show yourself in public.”

“Sometimes we all have to do things we wouldn’t do otherwise,” the Doctor replied vaguely, guessing that the Lady Moriko’s mentor must have been some sort of hermit or holy man. “I could not let her travel across the country on her own in these dangerous times.”

“No, of course not,” the clerk agreed hurriedly. “But do come with me; the ladies of the court will be overjoyed to see you.”

“Is the entire court here?” Tosh knew, of course, that they were, but she thought it better to feign ignorance. After all, the true Lady Moriko couldn’t know _that_.

The clerk nodded. “Certainly; where else could they be? There is no safer place for them any longer than our own ships, under the protection of Taira no Munamori. Please, come; your presence will give them hope. And hope we all desperately need at the moment.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Not having any other choice, Tosh and the Doctor followed the clerk down to the harbour, where a great fleet of many hundred ships was gathered already, wearing the flags of the Taira Clan. There they were taken by boat to a rather modest ship, where the members of the imperial court were hiding from prying eyes.

At first Tosh was surprised by the choice, but soon she realised that it must have been a tactical decision. The enemy would probably be looking for the child emperor and his caretakers on one of the fancier ships. Unless they were betrayed, they’d be safe on that modest ship.

Tosh was well aware of the sad fact that they _would_ be betrayed, in the end. It was all told in the _Heike Monogatari_ , in minute detail, and her heart went out to the child emperor who would soon be dead. She wished she could do something to save him, but she knew she was not allowed to interfere. If she tried to save young Antoku, the consequences for Japanese history could not be foreseen.

The clerk led them into the presence of the Lady Taira no Tokiko, better known in modern times by her Buddhist name, as the Lady Nii, the grandmother of the child emperor. Almost sixty years of age, the Lady Nii counted as truly ancient, given the usual life expectation of people in the twelfth century, and she had a stern, imperious presence that would make strong warriors tremble with fear.

Her daughter, the future Empress Dowager Kenrei-mon In, could not be older than thirty, if memory served well, but she looked like a middle-aged woman, worn and resigned to her fate. Tosh felt sorry for her. They were roughly the same age, yet while _she_ was still young and had her entire life before her (courtesy of one Jack Harkness), the life of Taira no Tokuko was almost over. Oh, she would survive the upcoming battle – she was one of only forty-three Taira who would – but live out the rest of her life as a Buddhist nun, in a modest hermit’s hut.

Antoku-tenno, the child emperor, barely seven years of age, looked like a china doll, shrouded in the many layers of his richly adorned ceremonial garb. Even his small face was doll-like, his hair braided with strings of pearls, his eyes void of all emotion. He could have already been dead by the look of him.

But again, he was a mere puppet in the decades-old struggle for power between the warring samurai clans, the Taira and the Minamoto – or the Heike and the Genji, as they were better known in later times. The true power lay with his determined grandmother, the great Kiyomori’s widow – and with the two powerful men standing by her side.

Those two men could hardly be more different, both in looks and in their future fate. Taira no Munemori, now just two years short of forty and in his resplendent prime, had been the head of the Taira Clan for the last four disastrous years, as well as the _Nadaijin_ of Emperor Antoku’s court; a high rank in the court administration, which could be roughly translated as Minister of the Centre and meant something akin to Inner Minister in modern terms. 

He’d led the Taira forces through many battles in those years. Some of them disastrous, like the Battle of Hiuchi, where most of the seventy thousand Taira riders had been crushed in the Kurikara Valley. Others had brought spectacular victories for the Taira… and short relief that, however, never lasted. The upcoming battle, Tosh knew, would be his last one.

He looked most impressive in his splendour, dressed up in the rich garment of the noble-born warrior that he was. But his eyes were wary and observant, as it behoved the son of the most powerful man in Japan: Taira no Kiyomori, the maker and destroyer of emperors. However, Kiyomori was now dead, and the Taira were losing their grip on the power they had wielded for the last thirty years, and Tosh had the impression that Munemori was all too aware of that fact.

The other man was considerably younger, seemingly in his early twenties. Nonetheless, his rich clothing marked him as someone who must have held an important position at the court. Considering that only two had remained from the _Daijo-kan_ , the Council of State serving Antoku, and that Tosh had already identified Munemori, the other one could only have been Konoe Motomichi, Emperor Antoku’s _Sessho_.

He seemed awfully young for such a high position, at least for the modern eye. But – although he did not feature prominently in the _Heike Monogatari_ – Tosh knew that he’d been promoted to _Kampaku_ , to regent, at the tender age of a mere seventeen, as a result of a coup led by Taira no Kiyomori, and had taken the position of _Sessho_ , of regentship, for Emperor Antoku five years previously.

Even back in the twelfth century, such a quick rise in the ranks had been unusual, especially considering that the _Sessho_ had been, during the Heian era, the effective ruler of Japan. But again, this aspiring young nobleman came from the Fujiwara clan; from a _Sekkan-ke_ family that had exclusively held the titles of the _Kampaku_ and the _Sessho_ for quite some time, his father having been the founder of the Konoe family.

Of course, the fact that his stepmother had been the daughter of the great Taira no Kiyomori must have helped, too. In the last thirty years, being related to Kiyomoru, even indirectly, had been helpful for one’s career in the imperial bureaucracy.

Tosh had to admit that Motomichi was stunningly beautiful. He possessed that particular beauty that made him look as if he’d remained in the age of the _wakashu_ , adolescent boys, although both his rich clothing and his shaved forehead clearly marked him as a full adult. He was the kind of beautiful young man that in the modern era would be called _bishonen_ – someone whose beauty and sexual appeal transcended gender boundaries and even sexual orientation. 

If he was indeed one to use his stunning looks for his advantage, one could not tell, but one thing was sure: few could have resisted his persuasion, should he want them to do things for him, just to make him happy. Not that any young man would have been eligible as a lover for an older one beyond the coming-of-age ceremony, of course; but in an era as artistic as the Heian period, people would do his bidding just because he embodied the idea of male beauty to a high degree of perfection.

Tosh also happened to know that Motomichi, due to his family connections and his personal diplomatic skills, would successfully find his way out of the disadvantageous situation in which he was right now. He’d live to the then-respectable age of sixty-three, would hold the position of the _Sessho_ for another seventeen years, serve another two emperors and would be followed in the office by one of his sons, Iezane. A long and successful career in feudal Japan.

Munemori, on the other hand, the current head of the Taira Clan, would not be so fortunate. As there would no longer _be_ a Taira Clan, he wouldn’t be needed any longer; not even as a pawn or as a hostage. Not for any other purpose than to demonstrate utter Minamoto victory. 

Tosh tried very hard _not_ to think about what she knew of his soon-to-be fate. It was too depressing, while facing this noble, powerful man, still alive… although perhaps all too aware of what was about to come, if the wary look in his eyes was any indication.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The Lady Nii greeted the newcomers in a patronising manner so typical for the powerful (or for the once-powerful) when dealing with important guests who are nonetheless below their own ranks.

“Lady Moriko, how good it is to see you again,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, which remained cold, dark and hard like pieces of obsidian. “It does make one marvel, though, how you have managed to get across half the country all on your own, although the lands between here and Shikoku province are crawling with Minamoto spies.”

Tosh’s answering smile was every bit as cold as the imperial lady’s. She was _not_ about to leave the Lady Nii’s thinly veiled suspicions unchallenged; that would have been suicidal in the current situation.

“That would have been a miracle indeed,” she said with false sweetness. “Fortunately, I was not on my own. May I present my mentor, the esteemed Taro no Tanaka?”

With that, she gestured with her fan in the Doctor’s direction again, hoping that the name – which wasn’t even one she had ever heard before – would have the same effect on the members of the court as it had on the clerk they’d just met.

Luckily for her, there must have been a much-respected holy man by that name indeed – even though the name hadn’t reached her own time – for both the ladies and the two _kugyo_ , the powerful court ministers, bowed respectfully. Munemori especially seemed very impressed with their unexpected visitor.

“Taro no Tanaka, it is an honour,” he said. “Your coming – and the escape of the Lady Moriko – is a sign of hope for us all. May I respectfully ask you to share your wisdom with me and the members of my family?”

“I would be happy to do so,” the Doctor answered, revealing a definite lack of talent for stilted formal speech. “But I’ve sworn a solemn oath never to leave the Lady Moriko without protection, and I’m not sure that proper etiquette would allow her presence at a meeting between us.”

“We are on the verge of the all-deciding battle,” Munemori replied grimly. “The Lady Moriko is known for her visions about the future. Her presence at our meeting would be most welcome.”

“She has already refused to tell you what she has seen in our future,” the Lady Nii said in a manner that was anything but friendly. “What do you hope to achieve by allowing her to be present at your council? Unlike your many consorts, she would not fall under your spell.”

“Nonetheless, I insist,” Munemori said coolly.

The Lady Nii stared daggers at him but couldn’t do anything against his decision. She might be respected by all and feared by most, but Munemori was the head of the Taira clan and their most powerful general and, at least for the moment, his word was law.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“I do not know what you hope to learn from me, my Lord Munemori,” the Doctor said when they were all seated on floor cushions in the Taira leader’s private cabin and were served tea.

Aside from the three of them, present were Munemori’s somewhat older-looking but still robust brother Tomomori, another one of his warrior chiefs, and his son Kiyomune, a youth every bit as beautiful as Konoe Motomichi – who, by the way, had _not_ been invited. Either Munemori already doubted the _Sessho_ ’s loyalty, or it had been a deliberate slighting of the way too influential courtier.

“I hope for words of wisdom, so that I might make the right decision when we’re about to face our enemies,” Munemori replied.

“Then you’re asking the wrong person, I’m afraid,” the Doctor said. “I am not a man of war, not a warrior. I’m merely a traveller who tries to learn from all the things and people he encounters on his way. I despise violence and I don’t kill people. I don’t even carry a weapon.”

“And yet you have got the Lady Moriko here unharmed from Shikoku, across enemy territory,” Taira no Tomomori said.

“That was by stealth,” the Doctor replied with a happy grin. “Believe me; even the Lady Moriko here understands more about weapons and warfare than I do.”

“Perhaps so, but if she steadfastly refuses to share her visions with us, what good does her knowledge do for us?” Munemori asked. “Our position is not a promising one. Ever since we were forced to leave Shikoku and retreat to Nagato province, we are losing allies.”

“We are losing them, and the Minamoto are gaining them,” Tomomori added with a fierce scowl. “Word has just reached us that the head of the Kumano Shrine had decided to support the Minamoto, after fortune-telling with cockfights. With _cockfights_! So deep have we sunk that the fate of the empire is being decided by mindless fowl! It would be a laughing matter, would it not mean two hundred boats for the Minamoto. Two _hundred_!”

“And another hundred and fifty boats from the province of Shikoku,” the young samurai who’d been sitting in the background in silence until now added with a grim smile. “They are eager to join forces with what they believe would be the victorious side.”

“Had you not failed to slay Minamoto no Yoshitsune with your arrow, they would no longer have a warlord to follow,” Tomomori said accusingly. “The other Minamoto generals cannot even come close to Yoshitsune’s leadership skills.”

The young samurai reddened in anger, but his respect for his elder forbade him to give the sharp answer he clearly had on the tip of his tongue. Munemori, however, came to his aid unbidden.

“You know as well as I do, brother, that Noritsune’s aim was true,” he said. “He would have slain Yoshitsune, had one of his retainers not shielded him with his own body. So it happened that Tsuginobu died yet Yoshitsune survived the battle and lives still. It was not our cousin’s fault that Yoshitsune’s men are loyal to him to the death and beyond.”

Noritsune inclined his head in gratitude. Tosh vaguely remembered his name as that of a commander of the Taira and a strong warrior in his own right, but couldn’t quite recall at the moment what his fate would be. To be honest, she was glad about _that_. It was bad enough to know what would become of the others… including Munemori’s young sons.

“How many vessels, do you think, are your enemies going to have?” the Doctor asked.

“About three thousand, I would say, if the observations of our spies can be trusted,” Tomomori replied with a shrug.

“And how many do _you_ have?”

“Less than one thousand,” Munemori said. “But we have the advantage over them that we understand the tides of the Inner Sea much better than they do.”

“Besides, as great a general as Yoshitsune might be, he cannot compare himself with Munemori when it comes to combat tactics on the Sea,” Tomomori added.

“Not to mention that our archers are better, too,” Noritsune said with a faint smile.

Tosh remembered something her mother had used to read to her. Something that had captured her imagination as a young child and she’d always wanted to know the truth about it.

“Is it true that Minamoto no Yoshitsune lost his bow during the fighting at the shore of Shikoku and risked his very life to retrieve it?” she asked.

The Taira samurai exchanged identical grins.

“Oh, yes,” Noritsune said in deep satisfaction. “He didn’t want us to recover his bow, as it was stringed for a weak archer, and laugh at him – which we still did anyway.”

“It certainly caused him to lose face in the eyes of his fellow commanders, to a certain degree,” Tomomori added. “It’s said that he’s been struggling with Kajiwara Kagetoki for leadership ever since.”

“Kagetoki is vermin,” Noritsune commented with a distasteful scowl. “He turns his coat with every turn of the wind and betrays the ones he’d sworn never-ending loyalty to only an hour before.”

“Which is why he’ll succeed in turning the _shogun_ against Yoshitsune, sooner rather than later,” Tomomori pointed out.

“That may be so,” Munemori said grimly, “but even if he should fall from grace eventually, that wouldn’t help us if we fail to beat him in battle today.”

“We _will_ beat him,” Tomomori said with easy confidence. “We’ll beat his fleet and capture him and exchange him for Shigehira.”

Munemori shook his head. “ _If_ we beat him, he’ll be of no use to his brother; and we have already refused to exchange the Three Imperial Treasures for Shigehira.”

“ _That_ was an unacceptable offer from the side of the retired emperor,” Tomomori said forcefully.

Munemori nodded. “Of course. Which is why we’ve refused it. But it also means that we can no longer help our brother.”

“It is his own fault,” Noritsune commented. “He shouldn’t have burned the Nara temples. Raising the wrath of the monks against oneself is never a good thing.”

“That was an accident,” Tomomori said.

“Or so Shigehira says,” Noritsune countered.

Tosh closed her eyes for a moment. All those names of places and people she hadn’t heard since her childhood were giving her a killer headache. She glanced briefly at the Doctor, who shrugged. He knew even less about these things than she did.

“Whatever the truth may be,” Munemori was saying in the meantime, “we can no longer help Shigehira. He’ll be handed over to the Nara monks and executed before the eyes of all… if it has not already happened. We should see how we can win the battle today and save ourselves – and the emperor and his family.”

“We _shall_ win the battle,” Noritsune insisted. “We might be outnumbered, but our warriors are better trained, and our commanders are loyal.”

“Are they?” Tomomori said grimly. “How comes then that Taguchi no Shigeyoshi still has not managed to join forces with us?”

Noritsune waved off his concern.

“A minor delay,” he said confidently. “He will come.”

Munemori nodded. “He will indeed; of that, I have no doubt. I only wonder whom his forces will support in the end.”

“I have been telling you for some time that he cannot be trusted,” Tomomori said in disgust. “I _asked_ you to execute him, just to be on the safe side. You _refused_ … and now we will all pay the price for your misplaced mercy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“Which side _is_ he going to support indeed?” the Doctor murmured softly, not wanting to be overheard by Noritsune who was escorting them back to the imperial ladies. “You know how it will end, don’t you?”

Tosh nodded. “Taguchi Shigeyoshi will defect to the Minamoto side and betray the emperor, revealing on which ship the court is travelling. Tomomori and Noritsune will be slain in battle, I think… although it could be that Tomomori will drown himself with the rest of the court. I’m not really sure. It’s been a long time since my mother read the _Heike Monogatari_ to me.”

“The _entire_ court?” the Doctor asked in shock.

Tosh shrugged. “Better than being captured by the enemy, paraded along the streets of the capitol _and_ then publicly executed, I guess.”

“They’d execute the emperor, although he’s just a child?” the Doctor was beyond shock now.

“He’s _not_ a child,” Tosh corrected. “He’s a symbol; the symbol of Taira power over the country. A symbol that needs to be destroyed. If memory serves me well, though, his mother will be pulled out of the Sea at the last moment.”

“What about Munemori?” the Doctor asked.

“He’ll be captured alive, together with his sons,” Tosh sighed. “Minamoto no Yoshitsune will deliver them to his brother, the _shogun_ and lord of Kamakura, where they will be executed in shame and their heads will be hung near a prison gate in the capitol.”

“And we can do nothing to save them…” the Doctor murmured. It wasn’t a question, but Tosh felt inclined to answer nonetheless.

“We could try, but any changes in such important historic events might lead to disastrous consequences, I think.”

“And you would be right, of course,” now it was the Doctor’s turn to sigh. “Events like this are fixed points in an otherwise fluidic time, and the Time Laws expressly forbid us to tamper with them.”

“Besides, there’s no way to tell which side used to be the good guys,” Tosh pointed out. “The Clans have been struggling for power for thirty years, fighting each other and amongst themselves ceaselessly. Both have done unspeakable things to each other as alliances shifted and former allies became enemies; and in all this time, the peasants were suffering terribly from the constant warfare. The only one I truly pity is Antoku; but he’d meet a fate far worse than simple death if he were to be captured alive.”

“What about the young nobleman with the Lady Nii?” the Doctor asked. “Will he, too, kill himself or be slain in the battle?”

Tosh laughed. “Konoe Motomichi? Oh, no, not him. He’ll be the only one who’ll come out of the battle unscathed, both physically and career-wise – from either side. He’ll serve another two emperors in the next two decades and live to a ripe old age.”

“Despite the fact that he had such a high rank in the imperial court?” the Doctor wondered.

“Skilled courtiers are always in high demand,” Tosh shrugged. “Besides, he’s not a Taira. He’s an offshoot of the Fujiwara Clan, and they’ve been giving regents to the courts since the ninth century. The Konoe family is – well, _was_ – one of the five Regent Houses, and practically monopolized regentship, no matter who was actually sitting on the Chrysanthemum Throne. And even though after the current era the shoguns practically took over the actual power, the office remained a prestigious one.”

“I see,” the Doctor shook his head in wry amusement. “There are those who always land on their feet, no matter what… or _when_.”

“Usually the ones with… erm… flexible loyalties,” Tosh agreed, “but who are we to blame him? Having survived this particular era was no small feat. Speaking of which,” she added, suddenly very serious, “how are we going to survive the upcoming battle? We’ll have to count on the emperor’s ship being specifically targeted, now that the Minamoto will know which one he’s on.”

“Allow yourself to be captured without resistance,” the Doctor answered. “They seem to believe that you’re some kind of holy woman; they won’t harm you. Not right away, at least. And before it may come to _that_ , I’ll fetch you away from here.”

“How?” Tosh asked with a frown. “Can you call the TARDIS by remote to come for us?”

“Something like that,” the Doctor admitted. “She’s pre-programmed to home in on a certain signal and pick us up in case of an emergency. I can activate the emergency programme with my sonic screwdriver. But in case we get separated, you should wear this.”

 _This_ was a beautifully crafted silver chain, from which a silver pendant hung, depicting some unknown symbol. The pendant apparently could be taken apart, and when Tosh pulled off the lower part, a very ordinary Yale key was revealed within.

“What _is_ this?” she asked.

“It’s a TARDIS key,” the Doctor explained. “Usually, I give one to each of my companions, so that they can get in, even if I’m not there. It’s only a loan, mind you, so you’d better take good care of it.”

Tosh put the pendant together again, hiding the key, and hung the finely-linked chain around her neck, fingering the pendant in amazement.

“And it will help the TARDIS to find me?”

The Doctor nodded. “Oh, yes. It will also warn you whenever the TARDIS is coming – the pendant will get warm and start glowing – so you’d better wear it under your clothes.”

Tosh nodded and hid the pendant under the heavy silk of her robes. Then they had to stop speaking, as they had reached the quarters of the imperial family, and giving away the fact that they knew what was about to happen would have been unwise… not to mention completely useless.


	4. Vae Victis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of the naval battle of Dan-no-ura follows closely the one given in “The Tale of the Heike”. The speech of Taira no Tomomori encouraging his warriors and the last words of the Lady Nii are more or less faithfully quoted from that source.  
> The chapter title comes from Latin and means roughly “Woe the defeated ones” – or so I hope.
> 
> Beta read by the generous badly_knitted

PART THREE – VAE VICTIS

They were barely seated in the company of the imperial ladies when a young warrior came and bowed to Noritsune.

“My lord, you are needed on your ship. The Minamoto fleet has arrived and they are approaching us en masse, their ships abreast and archers ready.”

“How many ships?” Noritsune asked, already on his way, with barely a perfunctory bow towards the Child Emperor who was listening to them with dull, resigned eyes. It was a frightening sight in that small, doll-like face.

“Eight hundred great warships, at the least, and some two thousand lesser boats… or more,” the young warrior reported grimly.

“And we have less than five hundred, each,” Noritsune murmured; then he shook himself determinedly. “Well, it is time to show the Minamoto that true strength does not lie in the numbers alone.”

He hurried to the plank and descended to a small boat to return to his own ship. Tosh looked after him in sorrow, knowing she wouldn’t see him again; and whatever else he might have been, he was an honourable warrior, acting according to the values of his own time. Judging him by twenty-first century measures would have been unfair.

The Doctor also followed the rapidly departing boat with his eyes.

“And so it begins,” he murmured. “The battle that will change the fate of an empire, forever. A fixed point in time that cannot be changed. A pity, though – for both sides.”

Tosh nodded grimly. “This was horrible enough to learn about in history lessons,” she admitted. “I hate the thought that I’ll have to witness the whole massacre with my own eyes.”

She spoke in a low voice, as she knew such opinions would be despised in the twelfth century, but the Doctor nodded in understanding. For the next few minutes, they watched the battle unfold before their eyes in silence.

The Minamoto and Taira positions were about two miles apart on the surface of the sea at the moment. A turbulent ebb tide was running at Moji, Akama and Dan-no-ura, and the Minamoto boats, breasting the flow, were carried seaward in spite of their best efforts. The Taira vessels took advantage of the current to move forward. At length, the opposing sides confronted one another and shouted their battle cries with all their might.

The Doctor flinched and made an aborted effort to cover his ears. Tosh grinned at him.

“It’s said in the tales that the noise was heard in Bonter above and startled the Sea Naga King below,” she commented.

The Doctor pulled a face. “You humans. You always have to make so much _noise_ , whatever you are doing,” he complained.

As if proving him right, Taira no Tomomori appeared outside the cabin of his boat to speak to his men before the battle would break out in earnest.

“Today’s battle is the last one!” he shouted in a mighty voice that carried over the waves to the farthest Taira vessel. “Don’t let a single thought of retreat enter your heads, men! Even a peerless commander or warrior is helpless if his luck has run out. But honour is precious! Don’t show weakness in front of the easterners. What’s there to save our lives for?”

“Your countrymen are – _were_ – clearly insane,” the Doctor commented.

“You get no argument from me,” Tosh replied with a shrug.

“The eastern warriors may talk big on horseback, but when did they learn to fight on water?” called over a samurai from a neighbouring boat. “They will be like fish that have tried to climb trees. We’ll grab them one by one and give them a bath in the sea.”

There was uproarious laughter all around them, and Tosh shook her head in regret, knowing that most of these over-confident warriors would end up on the bottom of the sea themselves before the day was over.

“When you grapple, try to choose the Commander-in-Chief, Gen Kurô,” another warrior suggested. “He’s supposed to be easy to distinguish because he is fair-skinned and short, with buck teeth. People say, though, that he keeps changing his _hitatare_ and armour, so it is hard to recognize him at first.”

“He may be brave enough,” the samurai from before, a giant who would have put a sumo wrestler to shame, replied dismissively, “but a stripling like him is nobody to worry about. I’ll clamp him under one arm and throw him into the sea.”

“Who’s this Gen Kurô they’re talking about?” the Doctor asked.

“General Yoshitsune,” Tosh explained. “That’s one of his names. It basically means that he is the ninth son.” At the Doctor’s baffled look, she shrugged. “Every samurai had at least four names; those of high birth even more. One’s names were one’s pride and treasure.”

The Doctor shook his head in bewilderment. “Your people are deeply odd,” he declared.

“Says someone who doesn’t even _have_ a name,” Tosh countered.

“Oh, I _do_ have one,” the Doctor protested. “I just don’t use it, that’s all.”

“And you call _us_ odd,” Tosh commented dryly.

The Doctor shrugged. “You wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“That was what Mr. Spock said to Leila Kalomi,” Tosh replied, which earned her another glassy-eyed look from the Time Lord. “Oh, come on; don’t tell me that in all those years meddling with mankind you’ve never heard about Star Trek? That’s unbelievable!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The Doctor was saved from the necessity of giving an answer to _that_ (not that he’d actually _have_ one) by the arrival of Taira no Tomomori, who came to see his brother Munemori after having issued his orders.

“Our warriors seem to be in high spirits today,” he reported; then, giving another newcomer a sidelong look, he added. “I’m afraid, though, that Awa no Minbu Shigeyoshi’s had a change of heart. Perhaps we _should_ cut off his head, after all.”

“Charming,” the Doctor muttered. Tosh discretely kicked him in the shin before he could get them in any deeper trouble than they already were.

Munemori, too, glanced at the newcomer who was about to climb aboard their boat.

“How can we behead him when we have no evidence of treachery on his part?” he demanded. “You know what a faithful servant he has been.”

The newcomer, apparently the infamous Shigeyoshi, had come aboard in the meantime. He was attired in a dark yellow _hitatare_ and a suit of armour with white leather lacing. As soon as he got close to the Taira lords, he made respectful obeisance before Munemori, but his eyes sought out everyone around him most warily.

“Well, Shigeyoshi, have you had a change of heart?” Munemori asked. “You are oddly dispirited today… and nervous, I would say.”

“I am not the least nervous!” Shigeyoshi protested. “Not beyond the excitement of an upcoming battle.”

“That is good,” nodded Munemori. “Go then and command your men from Shikoku to fight gallantly.”

“I shall do as my lord commends.” Shigeyoshi bowed again and withdrew.

“Ah, how I would love to cut off that fellow’s head!” Tomomori muttered angrily. 

He kept his pleading eyes on Munemori, his sword hilt grasped tightly, but he could do nothing without the approval the head of the Taira Clan refused to grant. So he, too, returned to his own boat, muttering under his breath all the way, clearly unhappy with Munemori’s decision.

“Is Munemori right?” the Doctor asked in a low voice. “Has Shigeyoshi been faithful to them so far?”

Tosh nodded. “It’s told that he has more than once fought defensive battles in loyal service of the Taira during the last three years, at the risk of his life.”

“Why, then, would he turn against them in this last, all-deciding battle?” the Doctor wondered.

Tosh tried to remember what was said about the man in the _Heike monogatari_ , but the memory was vague at best.

“I’m not sure, but I seem to remember that his son was taken prisoner, shortly before the battle,” she finally said. “Perhaps he saw no other alternative.”

“It would be hard to blame him for trying to save his child,” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “Even if the consequences will prove devastating.”

“Trust me, Doctor; _devastating_ doesn’t even begin to describe the consequences,” Tosh replied grimly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The two fleets had moved into battle formation while they were talking. The Doctor saw in something of a surprise that the Taira had divided their thousand vessels in three groups. Five hundred rowed forward in the vanguard, the second wave followed with three hundred, and finally the Taira lords themselves formed the rearguard with the remaining two hundred boats. This tactic seemed odd to the Time Lord, especially considering the fact that the Minamoto outnumbered the Taira boat-wise by three to one.

“Why do they split their fleet against an overwhelming hostile force?” he wondered.

“They have to balance out the lack of numbers by being fast,” Tosh explained. “And they count on their archers. The vanguard is commanded by the best archer of the Nine Provinces, Hidetô, who was a legend during his life already. He has selected five hundred men who are all crack shots – although not in his own class, I’d assume. He posted them in the bows and sterns of his boats, formed them into solid lines, and will order them to release their arrows in unison, as soon as they’ve come within shooting range.”

“Why?”

“It’s a new tactic – well, it _was_ new in this time, at least. This formation will result in their fire coming from many different directions. And it will be impossible for the enemy to determine the location of the really strong archers and aim at them directly.”

“You know a great deal about medieval warfare,” the Doctor said, impressed. Tosh laughed.

“Not really. I just know the _Heike monogatari_ well… and I’m not such a rare wonder in this context. _Every_ Japanese child with a traditional education could recite you the important events of the Battle of Dan-no-ura… or the names of all generals and famous samurai who fought in that battle, and what their final fate was. We’re a folk that likes to bask in the glory of a past long gone.”

“Your people have a strange concept of glory,” the Doctor said bitterly, as full-fledged battle broke out before their eyes.

“Perhaps we have,” Tosh allowed. “But this is still part of our history, of our heritage… our very identity as a nation. I may not agree with everything my ancestors did – and _this_ definitely is one of the things I don’t condone – but I won’t reject any part of my cultural heritage out of hand, just because our values have changed in the last nine hundred years… at least I _hope_ they have.”

The Doctor looked at her doubtfully but didn’t argue any longer. Instead, he turned his attention back to the chaotic battle unfolding before their eyes.

“And you’re really sure about the outcome of this thing?” he asked with a frown. “Because to me, it seems the Taira are winning.”

And indeed, the Taira were fighting with the berserk desperation of men who had nothing to lose. Their arrows, too strong and too heavy for shield and armour to withstand, rained town on the Minamoto forces like deadly raindrops, and the Minamoto flinched under the barrage of the missiles. The Taira beat a wild tattoo on their attack drums, and the victory shouts arose on their boats from many throats.

“Our side is winning!”

“No, it is not,” Tosh murmured. “Not as long as _he_ leads on the Minamoto forces.”

The Doctor followed her look and spotted a warrior in the front line of the Minamoto ships, attired in a red brocade _hitatare_ and a suit of armour with purple-shaded lacing. At his waist, he wore a sword with bronze fittings; on his back, there rode a quiver containing arrows fletched with black and white feathers. In his hand, he held a rattan-wrapped bow, which he used against the Taira warriors with great skill. His horned helmet distinguished him as one of the warrior generals.

“Is that him?” the Doctor asked. “The Commander-in-Chief of the Minamoto?”

Tosh nodded. “That’s him. Kurô Tayu no Hôgan Yoshitsune, Fifth-Rank Lieutenant in the Imperial Police and envoy of the Retired Emperor. I’m sure he has at least a dozen other titles, all well deserved. But more importantly, he’s the youngest brother of the Kamakura _Shôgun_ and the greatest military genius of the late Heiji era. He _will_ find a way to break the rhythm of the Taira attack.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
And indeed, as if wanting to prove her words true, one of the Minamoto warriors rode his horse to the water’s edge and handed his helmet to a retainer to hold. Then he pressed his feet deep into his stirrups, drew his great bow to the full, and dispatched arrow after arrow with a tremendous force. No man within a thousand feet could escape his shots. When one of his arrows travelled especially far, he beckoned to the Taira, challenging them to return it… if they could.

“And they’ll stop the battle to do so?” the Doctor asked, honestly baffled.

Tosh shrugged. “Such are the rules of a challenge. You see, these samurai were no common soldiers. They were _warriors_ , who _chose_ the lords they served, and personal honour counted for them more than the potential outcome of any battle they were fighting.”

“Which means what exactly in this particular case?”

“It means that the actual battle won’t continue until the best archers on both sides exchange distant arrows and determine who among them is the absolute best,” Tosh explained.

Several archers on both sides had already started to do exactly that, and many men were shot from the boats they’d thought at safe distance in the water. In the end, a Minamoto archer named Yoichi emerged from the duel victorious, shooting a Taira warrior from as far as fourteen hundred feet and sending him headlong into the bilge.

No-one from the Taira side could outdo _that_ shot, and after that, both sides attacked again, the proud warriors fighting in reckless disregard of their lives, shouting and yelling. The forces seemed very… balanced, despite the fact that the Minamoto greatly outnumbered the Taira.

“True,” Tosh replied when the Doctor mentioned it, “but don’t forget that the Taira have the Emperor i>and the Imperial Regalia with them. There once existed a strong superstition that against an enemy with such spiritual support no-one could prevail.”

“Does that mean that the Taira could have won, despite the numerical advantage of the Minamoto?” the Doctor asked.

Tosh nodded. “They could have; and they _would_ have, save for other omens speaking against them. Look!”

The Doctor followed the direction of her outstretched hand and saw something akin to a white cloud appear in the sky. By closer examination, though, it turned out to be not a cloud but an unidentified white banner – white being the colour of the Minamoto – which floated downward until its cord seemed close enough to touch the bow of Yoshitsune’s vessel. Great joy and shouting broke out aboard the vessel at once.

“They consider this a sign, coming directly from the great Bodhisattva Hachiman,” Tosh said quietly. “They won’t stop now until they’ve achieved complete victory. What we’ve seen so far was just a pale shadow, compared with what will be coming.”

At the same moment a school of one or two hundred dolphins surfaced and swam from the Minamoto side towards the Taira vessels. Munemori, who’d been overlooking the battle within earshot of Tosh and the Doctor, frowned unhappily at the sight and sent a page to summon Harenobu, the lore-master of the Clan.

“Dolphins always appear in schools, but we have never seen such numbers as these,” he told the sage. “Use your divining arts and find out what it means.”

“The Minamoto will be destroyed if the dolphins remain on the surface and turn back,” Harenobu prophesied. “If they dive and pass us, though, we shall be endangered.”

He was still speaking when the playful creatures promptly dived under the imperial vessel. The diviner’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “This is the end for us all,” he said.

The Minamoto must have come to the same conclusion, for they launched a new attack without delay. This time, however, their tactic changed. The Taira had stationed their prominent men of noble birth on the fighting boats, while filling the larger, Chinese-style ships with their subordinates, hoping to annihilate the enemy when those ships pretended to surrender.

However, the Minamoto ignored the large ships entirely and aimed straight at the boats carrying the Child Emperor, the disguised Commander-in-Chief and other nobles. At first everyone was greatly surprised by this – until they spotted Shigeyoshi’s boat alongside that of the _Hôgan_.

“If only I had cut off that wretched Shigeyoshi’s head and thrown it away!” Tomomori roared, suffering a thousand useless regrets; then he looked at his brother across the water accusingly. “Your weakness will be our downfall. Just as Father’s misplaced mercy was when he spared the lives of Yoshitomo’s sons. Had he executed them, together with their father, there would be no _Shôgun_ in Kamakura and no Yoshitsune to destroy us today!”

But all that insight came way too late for the Taira. Meanwhile, all the warriors from Shikoku and Chinzei had defected to the Minamoto side. Yesterday’s subordinates were wielding bows against their sovereign and drawing swords against their masters. The tide of the battle had turned against the Taira, and it was obvious that there would be no escape.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The Minamoto warriors had already begun to board the Taira boats, which were veering out of control because sailors and helmsmen were lying in the bilge in alarming numbers, slain by swords or arrows. Tomomori, determined to find a dignified death, went in a small craft to the Emperor’s ship.

“We seem to have reached the final extremity,” he said. “Jettison everything that might offend the eye.”

And, to the Doctor’s bewilderment, he started running about from stem to stern, tidying the ship with his own hands, sweeping, mopping and dusting.

“What is he _doing_?” the Doctor asked. “Has he gone bloody insane?”

“He’s preparing us and himself for death,” Tosh answered quietly. “For a warrior, an honourable transition is very important.”

The ladies of the court surrounded the Taira lord, bombarding him with anxious questions.

“How is the battle going, Lord Middle Counselor?” they asked. “How are things going?”

Tomomori uttered a sarcastic laugh. “You’ll be getting acquainted with some remarkable eastern warriors, and soon,” he replied.

The ladies began to shriek and scream at that, like headless chicken. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

Tomomori snorted; then his eyes fell on Tosh, who – alone from the women – had kept her calm.

“You are not surprised by this, are you?” he asked.

“No, indeed,” Tosh replied slowly. “Which doesn’t mean that I won’t mourn the outcome; especially for the sake of the innocents,” and she briefly glanced in the direction of the Child Emperor, who seemed as-yet unaware of the fate awaiting him.

Tomomori followed her glance, and then he looked her directly in the eyes. They reached a state of complete understanding, without the need for words.

“It’s better than the alternative,” the samurai finally said.

Tosh nodded. “True. But it’s still regrettable. So many deaths… such a waste – and for what? Power? Riches? What of all that can you, can anyone, take with them into their grave?”

Tomomori was quiet for a moment. “Your insights are odd,” he finally said. “And yet I wish I had met your under different circumstances, for you are a brave woman. But now I must take my leave from you, Lady Moriko. The battle may be lost, but I have to win the Lady Nii enough time to escape with His Majesty, before I would follow her into honourable death.”

And with that, he returned on the small craft to his own ship.

Reassured that she would be given time to carry out her intended course of action, the Lady Nii draped her two dark grey underrobes over her head, hitched up her divided skirt of glossed silk, tucked the bead strand under her arm and the sword into her belt, and turned to the nobles still aboard.

“Although I am only a woman, I will _not_ fall into enemy hands,” she declared. “I will go where His Majesty goes. Follow swiftly, you whose hearts are loyal to him.”

She looked promptly at her own son, the head of their Clan. As Munemori showed no intention of following her, her face clouded in anger.

“Curse you!” she thundered. “Are you my son, the heir of my lord Kiyomori, or the spineless bastard of an umbrella salesman? You are a shame to us all, and I refuse to recognize you as mine!”

With that, he picked up the Child Emperor and walked with him to the side of the ship. Antoku, who had just turned eight that year, was wearing an olive-grey robe, his abundant black hair done up in a boy’s loops at the sides. He looked at the Lady Nii in puzzlement.

“Where are you taking me, Grandmother?” he asked.

She turned her face to him, holding back her tears with considerable effort.

“Don’t you understand? You became Emperor because you obeyed the ten good precepts in your last life, but now an evil karma holds you fast in its toils. Your good fortune has come to an end. Turn to the east and say good-bye to the Grand Shrine of Ise; then turn to the west and repeat the sacred name of Amida Buddha, so that he and his host may come and escort you to the Pure Land. This country is a land of sorrow; I am taking you to a happy realm called Paradise.”

The boy nodded obediently. Joining his small hands, he knelt towards the east and bade farewell to the Grand Shrine. Then he turned towards the west and recited the sacred name of Amida. The Lady Nii then snatched him up again and said in a comforting voice:

“There is a capital under the waves, too,” and with that, she plunged into the boundless depths.

Tosh turned away and hid her face in the Doctor’s shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, the Doctor took her into a comforting hug.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The action of the Lady Nii seemed to open the floodgates. The Imperial Lady Kenreimon’in was the first to follow her small son into a watery grave, putting her warming stone and her inkstone into the breast of her gown and plunging into the waves. She was too late already, though; at the very moment when she leaped into the water, one of the Minamoto fighting boats had already reached the imperial vessel, and one of the warriors pulled her aboard by the hair with a rake. The samurai clearly in command of the vessel looked down into her pale face.

“This is the Imperial Lady,” he said in surprise. “Inform Yoshitsune and transfer her back to the imperial ship at once.”

There was something strange in the Minamoto samurai’s voice; something that nagged on Tosh’s unconscious mind, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly it was. At the moment, it didn’t particularly matter, though; she had other concerns.

The warriors faithful to the Child Emperor were diving into the sea, wearing heavy armour, with weighty objects borne on their backs or held in their hands to make sure of sinking. Some of them – friends, brothers or cousins, who had great love for each other – went down holding hands, to find an honourable death together.

One of the court ladies tried to leap into the sea with a Chinese chest, but an arrow pinned the hem of her skirt to the side of the boat. Minamoto warriors seized her as she tripped and fell. The warriors wrenched the lock from the chest and tried to raise the lid, but were temporarily blinded as the sunshine hit the item hidden within.

“The Sacred Mirror is inside. It may not be viewed by ordinary mortals,” one of the courtiers, who had been taken prisoner, warned them, and the warriors shrank back. The samurai who had recognized the Imperial Lady had the chest wrapped in a blanket and sent it on to Yoshitsune’s ship.

The Doctor, meanwhile, was watching the mass suicide of the Taira warriors with ill-concealed shock.

“Do they value their lives so little?” he asked, shaking his head.

Tosh, recovering a little from the sight of the drowning of the Child Emperor, shrugged. “They’d be dead within days in any case; beheaded and their heads paraded on the streets of the capital. Besides, they’re Buddhists; since they believe that they will be reborn to a new life, dying doesn’t mean the same to them as it would mean to me, for example.”

“You’re not a believer, then?” the Doctor asked.

Tosh shook her head. “No; haven’t been since the age of sixteen or so. I guess my mother tried too hard to make a proper Japanese daughter of me – she achieved the opposite result.”

“For someone who supposedly believes in reincarnation, Lord Munemori is a little lukewarm on the notion of suicide,” the Doctor commented.

Tosh nodded. “That is true. Munemori became infamous for his ineptness as a warlord and quite beneath contempt for not dying with his clan at Dan-no-ura.”

Indeed, despite the examples of their friends and family, Munemori and his son Kiyomune were still lingering at the side of their boat, looking around in bewilderment, with no apparent thought of jumping. Some of the Taira warriors, clearly embarrassed to the death by their lord’s cowardice, tried to make Munemori give a good accounting of himself by shoving him overboard, under pretence of brushing past him. Kiyomune, apparently an obedient son, leapt promptly after his father.

However, as they had nothing to weigh them down, they did not sink under the water. Moreover, both being good swimmers, they headed towards the edge of the water, watching each other as they swam, each waiting for the other to make the final decision. A decision that was, in the end, taken out of their hands when Minamoto warriors pulled them out of the water with rakes.

“What now?” the Doctor asked Tosh. “Have you seen enough of this massacre? Can I summon the TARDIS?”

“Not yet,” Tosh said. “It would draw too much attention. No, let’s stick to the original plan and allow ourselves to be captured. Once in a more quiet place, we’ll be able to sneak away under the veil of the night.”

The Doctor gave her a suspicious look. “Is that the only reason why you want to stay?”

“No,” Tosh admitted. “When I’ve already seen this much, I’ll see it to the end… besides, I’d like to see Yoshitsune face to face. One does not meet a living legend every day.”

“I’m sure _Hôgan_ will appreciate the sentiment,” the Minamoto samurai capturing the Imperial Lady said; then he barked at his subordinates. “Secure the imperial vessel! Take everyone on board prisoner. _Hôgan_ will want to question them, one by one.”

While he was still speaking, a Taira arrow hit his horned helmet with such a force that the leather thong holding it in place broke, and the helmet fell from the samurai’s head, revealing a fair-skinned face with charming and definitely _female_ features. The long black hair of the samurai came loose from its knot, flowing down his – _her_ – back like black ink.

“Tomoe Gozen!” Tosh cried out in surprise. Tradition, although offering various and rather controversial tales about the life and final fate of the famous female warrior, never mentioned that she would have fought in the Battle of Dan-no-ura. Especially not in Yoshitsune’s service, who had, after all, played a decisive role in the death of her former master.

The female samurai shot her an equally surprised glance. “You know me?”

“I’ve heard of you,” Tosh corrected.

“I’ll hear of this… later,” Tomoe Gozen looked around at the battle still going on; then she gestured to some Minamoto warriors nearby. “See that these two get to _Hôgan_ ’s boat, once the fighting is over. He’ll want to hear what they can tell him. The rest of you… stay on the imperial vessel. No-one else is allowed to leave it.”

And with that, she jumped back into her boat to rejoin the fighting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“So, would you mind telling me who Tomoe Gozen _is_?” the Doctor asked Tosh, once they had been ushered into a safe niche of the imperial vessel.

“She is the only known female samurai of the Heian era,” Tosh explained. “She was famed as a skilful warrior who goes into battles like a man; one of Minamoto no Yoshinaka’s senior captains and in secret she may have also been his wife. In any case, she was one of his top commanders and led men into battle.”

“Wait, wait,” the Doctor interrupted. “I’m getting confused by all these names; they all sound the same. Who’s this Yoshinaka?”

“The cousin of Yoshitsune and the Kamakura _Shôgun_ , one of the successful Minamoto generals,” Tosh replied. “He competed with Yoritomo for the ultimate leadership of the Clan, seized Kyoto by force, imprisoned the Retired Emperor and forced the Emperor to bestow upon him the title of the _Shôgun_. He was later driven out of Kyoto by Yoshitsune and his brother Noriyori, and killed at the Battle of Awazu.”

The Doctor’s head was swimming with the new names, but he managed to get the gist of the story. “And she now serves the man who killed her former master?”

“That surprises me, too,” Tosh admitted. “It’s said in the _Heike monogatari_ that Yoshinaka ordered her to flee as his forces were overwhelmed in battle by Yoshitsune and Noriyori’s forces and he knew that he would face being captured and killed. Historians say that she was seen fleeing with the head of an enemy samurai after the Battle of Awazu. They also say that she was defeated by Wada Yoshimori and became his wife. After his death she supposedly became a nun in Echizen.”

“But that can’t be true, if she’s here, fighting on Yoshitsune’s side now,” the Doctor pointed out.

Tosh nodded. “As with other heroes, the facts of her life are so shrouded in legends that it’s hard to figure out what really happened and what was just added as poetic decoration. I hope we’ll learn more about that, too, once the fighting is over.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The battle still seemed to be far from over yet, though. Some of the Taira generals were still fighting like madmen, first of all fierce young Noritsune, who nearly succeeded in killing the Hogan during their previous encounter and seemed hell-bent to finish what he’d failed to do last time. He stood out among the warriors surrounding him like a red flame, attired in his deep red brocade _hitatare_ and wearing a horned helmet, easily recognized by his magnificent bow.

He stood in the bow of his boat, half a head taller than those around him, and released a fast and furious barrage of arrows, which mowed down the Minamoto warriors daring to get within arrow range of him like dried grass. Then, as his store of arrows was exhausted, he laid about him with his oversized sword and big spear, one in the left hand and one in the right, wounding and killing many men.

Tomomori, who saw him from his own boat, called out to him across the water. “Do not commit too many sins, Lord Noritsune. You are killing unworthy foes!”

“ _Now_ he’s suddenly developing a conscience,” the Doctor commented bitterly, disgusted and shaken by all the killing he’d had to witness.

“On the contrary,” Tosh replied quietly. “He’s sending him to kill Yoshitsune.”

And indeed, shouting and yelling, Noritsune launched a new attack against his foes. Holding his weapons close to the blades, he ranged from one Minamoto boat to another, scrutinizing every well-dressed warrior he saw.

“What is he doing?” asked the Doctor with a frown.

“I think he might not know Yoshitsune by sight,” Tosh answered, “so he’s trying to decide whom to kill.”

“Do _you_ know which one is Yoshitsune? There are several warriors in a similar attire like his.”

Tosh shrugged. “Not by sight, obviously. But he’s said to have been an excellent strategist, so I assume he’s the one on that boat which is so carefully moving out of Noritsune’s way.”

“I thought it was dishonourable to leave a challenge unanswered,” the Doctor commented sarcastically.

“It is, if a formal challenge has been made,” Tosh agreed. “Which, in this case, it has not. So it would be simply suicidal letting himself killed by a stronger enemy with much better skills at boat-fighting… I can’t believe this!”

“What?”

“Look at that! He’s actually managed to board Yoshitsune’s boat! How on Earth has he done _that_?”

Noritsune had indeed landed on Yoshitsune’s boat and was now flying at him with a triumphant yell. The Minamoto general, rather on the smallish side, and slender, even in his full battle regalia – no wonder the Taira warriors had called him a stripling – was clearly at a serious disadvantage. But he was clearly also a shrewd man, with a healthy sense of self-preservation. Seeing that he would not prevail against the enraged Noritsune, he put his spear under his arm and made a nimble leap into a friendly boat, a good twenty feet away.

The Doctor whistled. “That was some leap!”

Tosh laughed. “And a famous one, too. Some stories exaggerate so much that they state he’d have made a long string of jumps, as many as eight or nine… which is ridiculous, of course. But _Yoshitsune’s Leap_ is a legendary event in any case. He’s portrayed – or rather _will be_ portrayed – on the shore, making his famous leap, as a bronze statue in my time. Mum always went there whenever she visited Akama Shrine, to pay her respects.”

“What for? Doesn’t she believe she descends from the Taira court ladies?”

“She does. But my people do respect a worthy adversary.”

“Which apparently means that you prefer to kill those you respect,” the Doctor concluded. “What a warped logic!”

“This was a different time,” Tosh replied with a shrug. “I didn’t say I _agreed_ with their values, did I? Anyway, it seems that Noritsune has given up on his final goal.”

Perhaps because he was less prolific at such feats of agility, being much bigger and more heavily built, Noritsune had not tried to jump after the Minamoto warlord. Instead, he threw his sword and spear into the sea and discarded his helmet, apparently resigning himself to death. Then he ripped off the skirt of his armour, leaving only the cuirass, and stood with flying hair and outstretched arms in the boat of his arch enemy, a terrifying figure, impossible to approach.

“If any here consider themselves my equals, let them come forward,” he shouted. “Let them grapple with me and take me prisoner. I would like to go to Kamakura: I have something to say to Yoritomo! Come on! Come on!

But no-one approached, not for quite a while. In the end, though, three Minamoto warriors – each of them at least as big and strong as Noritsune himself – took a small craft alongside their warlord’s abandoned boat, boarded it with a yell, and attacked in concert, their heads lowered and their swords, drawn. Perhaps they believed that with united strength they would be able to subdue the enraged Taira lord and either kill him or capture him. What a victory it would have been, parading him along the streets of Kyoto, and then having him beheaded!

Noritsune, however, was not the least perturbed by their attack. He approached the one who was taking the lead, and kicked him into the sea. Then he clamped the second man under his right arm and the third one under his left, gave them a mighty squeeze and sprang into the waves, shouting.

“All right, come on! Be my companions in the Shide Mountains!”

His foes serving him as dead weight, he sank immediately. Tosh looked after him with a curious mix of pity and admiration.

“There goes Taira no Noritsune, governor of Noto Province,” she said quietly, as some kind of a eulogy. “He was only twenty-six years old. May he rest in peace, knowing that his heroic deeds will still be remembered nine hundred years later. What else could a true warrior wish for?”

Taira no Tomomori, still alive on his own boat and still believing that she was a _miko_ with prophetic abilities, looked at her across the waves.

“Will _my_ deeds still be remembered, too?” he asked.

Tosh nodded. “They will, I promise. In a thousand years from now, people will still visit your shrine and pray for guidance, fortitude and wisdom.”

“Then it is time for me to go,” Tomomori said, “I have seen enough,” and he glanced at the man standing next to him. “What do you say, foster brother? You _will_ stand by your promise, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” the other warrior replied.

He brought a second suit of armour from the cabin of their boat and assisted Tomomori into it, donning another one himself; then the two leapt into the sea with clasped hands, remaining as inseparable in death as they had been in life. About twenty samurai took one another by the hand and sank in the same place, determined not to stay behind after their master had gone. Such was the love that Taira no Tomomori commanded over their hearts.

“I think _I have_ seen enough, too,” Tosh sighed. “Hopefully, we’ll be taken from this place, soon.”

She looked out at the surface of the sea that was littered with the abandoned red pennants and discarded red badges of dead Taira warriors. It resembled a river, strewn with storm-scattered autumn leaves. The foam-crested waves approaching the shore were tinged red with the blood of the fallen. Masterless, empty boats drifted aimlessly with the tides and winds.

“And thus ends the Genpei War,” she said softly, “as all wars end: in blood and tears. The thirty-year-struggle for power between the Taira and the Minamoto is over. And the new feudal system, the Kamakura _shôgunate_ , rises from the ashes of the old courtly life like a phoenix… for better or for worse, our historians are still debating about it.”

“And what about Yoshitsune, the victorious hero?” the Doctor asked, not even trying to hide his sarcasm.

“In four more years, he’ll be dead, too,” Tosh replied. “By his own hands, driven to _seppuku_ by his own, jealous brother, the _Shôgun_ , who’d never have come to power if it weren’t for Yoshitsune’s military genius.”

“Is that why you want to meet him so badly?” the Doctor asked. “Because you feel pity for him?”

“I want to see him because I only know the legends,” Tosh answered simply. “And this is my one and only chance to know the man behind the legends I grew up with as a child. Who in their right minds would let such a chance pass?”

“Someone with a healthy instinct of self-preservation,” the Doctor muttered.

But he saw how important this was to her, and so he didn’t argue any longer. He could always summon the TARDIS if things took a turn to the worse, after all.


	5. The Hōgan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version of Tomoe Gozen’s fate is entirely my invention. Legends give her several different fates after Lord Kiso’s death, so I took some poetic licence here.
> 
> Beta read by the generous badly_knitted

**PART FOUR – THE HŌGAN**

After the end of the battle, the victorious Minamoto warriors searched every Taira ship, taking prisoner everyone who failed to flee the scene of the battle… or refused to take their own lives. Among them were six courtiers, including Munemori and his son Kiyomune, four high-ranking monks and a total of thirty-seven samurai (not counting those who had come forward with their retainers in surrender before the battle). Forty-three ladies-in-waiting were also imprisoned, including the Imperial Lady, the wife of Konoe no Motomichi, Lady Dainagu-no-suke, the one who had tried to drown herself with the Sacred Mirror, and others.

The female samurai, Tomoe Gozen, returned to take the Doctor and Tosh into personal custody.

“I spoke about you to _Hōgan_ ,” she told them, “and he wants to see you at once. Would you follow me to his ship?”

It was merely a formal courtesy to ask, of course – they were prisoners of war, after all – but Tosh replied in kind nonetheless. To her surprise, Tomoe did not escort them to Yoshitsune’s fighting boat, but to a large, Chinese-style ship where the young warlord had his quarters, now that the battle was over.

Yoshitsune’s flagship – to use such a modern word for the lack of an authentic one – was one of those amazing river ships that could transport hundreds of troops, even mounted ones, and yet moved by only ten pairs of very long oars. Its deck was practically occupied by the living quarters; literally a house, with only enough room for walkways between it and the ship’s planks.

Getting aboard ship was not an easy thing for Tosh, who was still wearing the extremely unpractical court robes. Thus, after a moment of hesitation, she simply shook off the heavy silk jacket and _uichi_ , and climbed onto the ship wearing the _hakama_ and the _kosode_ only.

“I can understand why you’ve chosen the way of the warrior,” she muttered to Tomoe. “At least in men’s clothes one can move around freely.”

The lady samurai laughed and threw the discarded overgarments after her. “How did you get onto the imperial vessel, then?” she asked.

Tosh blushed involuntarily. “I was carried,” she admitted. Tomoe raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you ask? I’d have carried you.”

“No, thanks,” Tosh muttered. “It was embarrassing enough once.”

“You should get dressed properly again, though,” Tomoe advised. “ _Hōgan_ has a gentle nature, especially towards women; but he’s been slighted by courtiers often enough. Showing him due respect would help your case.”

“I still wonder how you ended up serving _him_ , of all people,” Tosh said, allowing Tomoe to assist her back into those dratted clothes again. “Wasn’t he the one who drove your former master to an early death?”

“If you mean that he was the one who dealt Lord Kiso a devastating defeat, then you are right,” Tomoe replied. “But he never laid hand on my master. Kiso died from an arrow, shot at him by a mere retainer. He died in shame because he felt too proud to die by his own hand, with a woman as company,” she added bitterly. It was obvious that she still had not forgiven her master for sending her away.

“They say you seized a man renowned in Musashi Province for his great strength, galloping into the midst of thirty or so riders, pulled him off the saddle and took his head,” Tosh said quietly. “Afterwards, you supposedly discarded armour and helmet and fled towards the eastern provinces.”

Tomoe made a very un-ladylike snort. “Hah! As if I’d _ever_ discard my weapons or armour!”

“No, I wouldn’t think so, either, now that I’ve met you,” Tosh agreed. “So you haven’t been defeated by Wada Yoshimori and forced to become his wife?”

“Of course not,” Tomoe replied with another snort. “There was only _one_ man who ever defeated me in a swordfight, and that was _not_ Wada Yoshimori.”

Several pieces clicked in place at once in Tosh’s head. “You met Yoshitsune and challenged him, to avenge the death of your master, didn’t you?”

“And lost,” Tomoe finished for her. “For such a small man, _Hōgan_ certainly fights like a demon, even against much larger opponents. No wonder, though; they say he was taught the arts of war by Sōyōbō, the _tengu_ of Kurama Mountain.”

“Yet he spared your life?” Tosh was surprised. Compassionate by nature the young general might be, sparing such a famous opponent had been heavily frowned upon at the time of the Genpei War.

Tomoe nodded. “He wanted an able attendant who would protect his prominent wife, should the war against the Taira end badly for him. He is married to a daughter of Kawagoe no Tarō Shigeyori,” she added as an afterthought, “and has a consort besides her, an exceedingly beautiful dancer named…”

“… Shizuka Gozen,” Tosh nodded. “Yes, I know.”

The samurai lady gave her a slightly suspicious look. “You seem to know a great deal about he Minamoto lords, for someone known as a Taira supporter.”

“Knowledge is power, or so I have always found,” Tosh answered calmly.

“Perhaps so,” Tomoe pulled the last attachment of the overgarment into proper position, “but it can also turn out a very dangerous thing. Now you’re presentable again. Go on; _Hōgan_ does not like it if people make him wait.”

She pulled aside the wooden panel that served as the door to the warlord’s living quarters aboard the ship, and Tosh, taking a deep breath, crawled in in the traditional Japanese manner, followed by the Doctor, who made no attempt to act the same way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The inside of the cabin turned out surprisingly large and airy. The room dividers – panels of rice paper mounted on wood – had been removed, in order to create enough room for the young Minamoto general and his retainers.

Yoshitsune was seated in the middle, with a warrior monk, wearing the usual white _gojo-gesa_ , shoulder-worn ornamental robe, and a _kato_ hood that obscured most of his face, kneeling behind him. Further back in the room waited Yoshitsune’s _shitenno_ – a group of four particularly fierce and loyal retainers, in full warrior regalia and armed to the teeth.

“The Lady Moriko of Komo Shrine, and her mentor, the esteemed Tarō no Tanaka,” Tomoe announced; then she assumed position in the only previously empty corner of the room.

In flesh the _Hōgan_ – the greatest military genius of this troubled period of twelfth century Japan – was nothing like his bronze statue that stood on the shore of Dan-no-ura in the twenty-first century. Nothing at all. That statue was – or rather _would be_ – an idealized representation of early samurai warriors in general and Yoshitsune in particular: an imposing man with smooth, even features, in full samurai regalia, frozen in mid-movement as he made his famous leap from boat to boat to avoid the attack of the fierce Noritsune.

Nor had his true appearance anything to do with the romanticized depiction of later ages that portrayed him as a _bushido_ , a beautiful young man – like the ones of Konoe no Motomichi. Yes, he _did_ look awfully young for someone who’d been a successful warlord for half a decade already. He was said to have been born during the Heiji Rebellion, which, as Tosh quickly calculated in her head, would make him about twenty-five now. He looked considerably older, though; at least seen with eyes used to twenty-first century standards, where childhood and youth lasted a great deal longer.

As he was sitting there, without armour, only in the elaborate black overgarment worn by men of his rank, Tosh would have guessed him to be in his mid-thirties. An experienced, battle-hardened warrior, in whom she might not even recognize the hero of her favourite childhood stories – if not for the grim giant kneeling behind him protectively.

Saitō Musoshibō Benkei, the _sōhei_ – warrior monk – serving Yoshitsune, was the hero of as many (if not more) legends as his lord. In later ages, he would probably have become a _sumo_ wrestler, as he seemed easily six feet six inches tall – only lean and wiry, built of heavy bones and hard sinews alone. The tales depicted him as a man of great strength and fierce loyalty, and the most fantastic stories about his life and origins had been spun during the centuries between his life and Tosh’s.

One of those legends called him a demon child, who’d been born with wild hair and long teeth. And though there didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about him save his size, Tosh could understand where that legend originated from. As he was kneeling there, with the famous _koto_ hood of the warrior monks on his head and a fierce scowl upon his half-covered face, towering over his lord like an unmovable wall of sheer rock, he _did_ have the potential to become a legend indeed. That, and his fearsome reputation as a warrior. It was said that the only man who’d ever defeated him in a duel had been Yoshitsune himself, and now, having seen the legendary giant with her own eyes, Tosh marvelled what an incredible swordsman the young _Hōgan_ must have been to triumph over such a warrior.

There was a great deal of honest respect in her gesture as she touched the deck planes with her forehead before the warlord’s feet, murmuring. “Lord Yoshitsune, it is an honour.” 

Yoshitsune looked up at her with surprise. “You know who I am?”

“ _Everyone_ knows who you are, my lord,” Tosh replied; then she nodded in Benkei’s direction. “And even if I didn’t recognize you, it would be hard to mistake _him_ for anyone else.”

“I see,” Yoshitsune said with a faint smile. “Your… mentor doesn’t seem particularly honoured by my presence, though.”

Rising to an upright position to sit on her heels, Tosh glanced over her shoulder at the Time Lord.

“There’s nothing wrong with being polite, Doctor,” she said quietly.

The Doctor frowned for a moment, then shrugged and kneeled down on her side. “Happy now?”

“It’s a beginning,” Tosh replied dryly; then she turned back to the warlord. “Tomoe Gozen said you wanted to speak with me, my lord.”

Yoshitsune nodded. The Doctor’s obvious reluctance to prostrate himself didn’t seem to bother him… not yet anyway.

“There is a matter that we need to discuss, before I decide what to do with the two of you,” he answered. “But I believe it is something better discussed in private,” he glanced around at his entourage. “Leave us,” he ordered simply.

His _shitenno_ and Tomoe protested, but he silenced them with a gesture that clearly showed that he was used to being obeyed.

“Do you truly believe that Benkei won’t be enough to protect me, should I, in fact, need protection?” he asked.

The others glanced at the grim giant, realized the truth in their master’s words and left, albeit reluctantly. Yoshitsune turned back to his prisoners and gave Tosh a piercing look.

“And now that we are among us, without any other ears to listen secretly, I want to know who you really _are_. For I know for certain that you cannot be the Lady Moriko of Kamo Shrine.”

“You do?” Tosh evaded a direct answer, trying to buy time for coming up with something believable. “How comes that you would know such a thing?”

“Because I saw with my own eyes how the Lady Moriko died,” Yoshitsune answered dryly. “She was closely associated with the Taira and sitting on the deck of one of their boats during the Battle of Yashima. She held out her fan as a challenge for our archers to hit it from the shore. One of my best young warriors, Nasu no Yoichi, accepted the challenge, and although he was two hundred and fifty feet away, he successfully struck the target.”

“He must be very skilled indeed,” Tosh commented diplomatically. 

Yoshitsune nodded. “That he is indeed, and both sides applauded his skill. Unfortunately, after hitting the fan, the arrow pierced it… and the heart of the Lady Moriko, who fell into the Sea and drowned in her heavy robes. I was there. I saw it.”

“So did the Taira, yet they didn’t question my identity,” Tosh countered.

“They weren’t the ones who retrieved the Lady Moriko’s body from the water, either,” Yoshitsune returned. “ _I was_. So, unlike them, I know for a fact that the Lady Moriko is very much dead. Which leaves the question: who are _you_ , and why are you posing as her?”

“Because my likeness to her ensured my safety in a battle fleet full of Taira,” Tosh replied.

The answer seemed to surprise the warlord. “You aren’t claiming to be the Lady Moriko, then?”

“Of course not,” Tosh snorted. “I hadn’t even heard of a person by that name before a clerk of the imperial court approached me and congratulated me on my miraculous escape. I couldn’t really tell him that he was mistaken. Not if I wanted to stay alive.”

“Yet you are wearing the robes of a lady from the imperial court,” Yoshitsune said.

Tosh shrugged. “They were the only ones available. I couldn’t be caught walking around in my small clothes.”

“That would have been… awkward,” Yoshitsune agreed. “So, who _are_ you then? I’d know the truth.”

Tosh glanced at the Doctor, who shrugged helplessly, signalling that it was up to her what she wanted to tell the warlord. _Not much of a help from an experienced time traveller_ , she thought, a little annoyed with him.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” she finally said.

“Try me,” Yoshitsune replied in a deceivingly mild tone. “Or I’ll have this mentor of yours executed… slowly and painfully, before your eyes.”

He was serious, there couldn’t be any doubt about that, and Tosh decided to play a risky game – yet the only one that could save them.

“That would do you no good,” she declared calmly. “He would just come back, in a different shape.”

Both Yoshitsune and his giant retainer eyed the Doctor warily. Being Buddhists, reincarnation wasn’t a foreign concept to them, but they could sense that she’d meant something different by it.

“Are you saying he’s a god or a demon or something?” Yoshitsune finally asked.

“Or _something_ ,” Tosh replied.

“I’m not a god!” the Doctor protested. “I’d make a very lousy god. You wouldn’t enjoy the consequences.”

“A demon, then,” Yoshitsune decided with a scowl. “You keep strange company, my lady.”

“You might think he’s a demon,” Tosh answered, “although in truth, he’s not. He’s merely a traveller from a far-away, very strange place we cannot even imagine. And for a short while, I’m travelling with him.”

“Are you from the same place?” Yoshitsune inquired.

Tosh laughed. “Oh, no! In fact, I’m from this very place, from this country. From Ōsaka, to be more accurate. I’m just from a different _time_.”

“You travel through _time_?” Yoshitsune was completely flabbergasted.

Tosh shrugged. “I told you: you wouldn’t believe it.”

Yoshitsune exchanged a look with Benkei, and the warrior monk shrugged, too. “Everything is possible when you’re dallying with demons,” he commented.

“We are _not_ demons!” Tosh protested angrily. “We’re just people, like you… only different. I’m even from your own kind.”

“But from a different time, you say,” Yoshitsune’s tone revealed that he still didn’t quite believe it – which was understandable. He was the child of the twelfth century; a time ruled by archaic beliefs and hair-raising superstitions. A time with no science. Not in Japan anyway.

Nonetheless, Tosh nodded. “That’s correct.”

“So, if it’s true, which I won’t believe for a moment, what time _are_ you from, then?” Yoshitsune asked.

Tosh glanced at the Doctor who just shrugged helplessly again. So much for following the lead of a Time Lord.

“Nine hundred years from your future,” she replied simply.

Despite his obvious disbelief, _that_ answer visibly shook the warlord.

“And you’d still know my name?” he asked in surprise.

“Through the times that follow, you’ve both become legends,” Tosh explained, “especially you, my lord. There are poems and paintings and tales and plays, telling about the main events of your life. In my time, you’re considered the greatest hero of our people. Or _one_ of the greatest heroes that ever lived anyway.”

She spoke matter-of-factly, trying her best to avoid the impression that she was kissing up to him. Strangely enough, _that_ seemed to convince the warlord that she was telling the truth.

“You know what will become of me, then?” he asked slowly. “Of us?”

“I know what the legends tell,” Tosh replied evasively. “But I cannot know whether they’re telling the truth or not. Nine hundred years is a long time. People’s memories can be faulty. Or there could have been deliberate changes in the times in-between, for political purposes. There’s simply no way to know the absolute truth.”

“There never is, not even about events that happened a week or a month ago,” Yoshitsune said. “Would you tell me what you know as the truth, though, if I asked?”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” Tosh answered. “If I told you what I know, you might act differently than you would have otherwise, and it could change the future of the entire country. I fear that I cannot take that kind of risk.”

“Why not?” Yoshitsune asked. “Have our people lived in such a golden age all this time that you are loath to endanger it?”

“Oh, no,” Tosh said grimly. “Our history was full of suffering and terrible deeds; often we came to the brink of complete annihilation. But by my time, we’ve finally overcome all those horrors, and even though we’re still bearing the wounds of our past, we’re living in relative peace and prosperity… more or less. Still, it’s better than what’s been before; and I’ll _not_ take that from our people.”

Yoshitsune didn’t seem to like that answer.

“I could force you, you know,” he said.

“You could _try_ ,” Tosh replied, “but you would fail. At most you could kill me trying, but what good would _that_ bring you? You’d still not learn what you want to know.”

“Are you truly as strong as to withstand torture to the last moment?” the threat was unmistakable in the warlord’s voice.

“No,” Tosh said. “I’m blessedly weak. I’d die very fast – and you still wouldn’t have learned anything.”

“She may be weak,” Benkei intervened, “but her companion, the demon, must be strong. If it truly can travel through time it must have great powers.”

“That he has,” Tosh said, “but he knows nothing of the things I know. He’s not from here. Besides, you cannot truly harm him.” 

She deliberately avoided looking at the Doctor; she _hoped_ she was right, but even if she wasn’t she couldn’t afford to show any doubt in her own words.

Benkei seemed to doubt them nonetheless, but Yoshitsune silenced him with an imperious gesture.

“Let’s try a different approach,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I’m about to do, and you’ll tell me if that’s the same thing you know from your legends. If it is, I’ll give you my word as a warrior that I won’t waver from my chosen path, no matter what you might tell me. Would that suffice for you to tell me what you know?”

Tosh thought about that for a moment. He seemed honest enough, and he was famous for always keeping his given word – up to the twenty-first century.

“Yes,” she then said. “But why would you wish to know your destiny if you’d choose not to try to avoid it anyway?”

“Because whatever my fate might be, I want to meet it with my eyes wide open, as it behoves a warrior, not like cattle led to the slaughterhouse by others,” Yoshitsune replied grimly. 

His attitude impressed the hell out of Tosh. She’d known samurai had been proud people who set their honour before everything else – in theory anyway. Meeting someone who’d actually rise to those lofty expectations had been… well, a little unexpected.

“Very well,” she said. “Under the conditions you’ve named, I shall tell you what I know.”

“Are you sure that would be wise?” the Doctor asked in concern. “You could irreparably contaminate the timeline.”

“No,” Tosh said simply. “He’s a samurai, born of a clan of warriors living by a strict code of honour. No matter what he learns, he’ll be honour-bound to keep his word.”

“You’re not telling me that samurai were incapable of lying and deceit, are you?” the Doctor asked sarcastically.

“Of course not,” Tosh snorted. “It was merely the romanticism of the later eras that made people believe in _that_. Samurai were as practical on the battlefield as were any other warrior; they could also be disloyal and treacherous, cowardly, brave or overly loyal. They were just people like everyone else, after all.”

“So, what makes you think that you can trust him?” the Doctor demanded.

“Because every legend and every historic source says that he was an honest and compassionate person who – despite his outstanding bravery in battle – treated the defeated with humanity and justice afterwards,” Tosh replied. “I’m very sure that he’ll do the right thing, whatever I might reveal to him.”

The Doctor just shook his head in exasperation, clearly not convinced at all. Yoshitsune listened to their quarrel with interest. The tales might have mentioned him as someone with a one-track mind, but he seemed content enough to wait until they’d come to some sort of consensus.

“Fine!” the Doctor finally said, in obvious frustration. “It’s your planet, your country… and your funeral if you change history.”

“I won’t,” Tosh replied calmly. “I don’t intend to tell him _everything_ at once, either. One thing at a time, as events unfold on their own.”

“And just how long do you want to stay in this area?” the Doctor asked sarcastically. “A whole year? Or two? Or three?”

“As long as it seems necessary,” Tosh answered simply. The Doctor threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

“You’re the most stubborn being I’ve ever seen; and I've seen a _lot_ of stubborn people in the last nine hundred years.”

“It takes one to know one,” Tosh countered.

“Fine!” the Doctor crossed his arms and turned his back to her.

Yoshitsune remained aloof but his eyes were twinkling in amusement. For him, seeing a _woman_ argue with an obviously respectable man twice her age – and get away with it – was a hilarious thing.

“I shall tell you what I have already done, then, and what I’m going to do next,” he said to Tosh. “I have dispatched a mounted messenger to Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa’s palace, to report to him that I have destroyed the Taira, and that I will be returning the Sacred Treasures unharmed. Tomorrow, I shall set off for Akashi Beach in Harima, with all my prisoners. From there, we shall continue to Heian-kyo.”

“Where?” the Doctor asked, temporarily forgetting that he didn’t want anything to do with the entire matter.

“Kyoto,” Tosh explained absent-mindedly. “The old name of the city. It was the capital at this time.”

“ _Was_?” Yoshitsune asked with interest. It isn’t anymore in your time?”

Tosh shook her head. “No. Tokyo – I mean Edo – has been the seat of the government for the last two hundred and some years; seen from my position.”

“Which you’re _not_ supposed to tell anyone,” the Doctor added with a scowl.

“True enough,” Tosh admitted ruefully; then she glanced at Yoshitsune. “So far so good, my lord. My tales say that you’ve done exactly that; returning to the capital with the prisoners. What else?”

Yoshitsune shrugged. “I shall parade them along the avenues, to the riverbed and back, as it is custom with captured enemies. Then I shall install them in my own house before taking them to Kamamura with me… save those who’ll be executed in the capital itself.”

“No,” Tosh said quietly.

Yoshitsune raised an elegant eyebrow. “I understand that executions may bother you, my lady, but past experience shows that leaving the children of one’s enemies alive can prove a grave error.”

“Like the error of Taira no Kiyomori when he didn’t have you and your brothers killed?” Tosh asked, remembering the angry words of Tomomori.

Yoshitsune nodded. “Exactly. The Kamakura Lord will not make the same mistake.”

“I understand the logic behind it, even though I can’t condone what you’re about to do,” Tosh said. “But it wasn’t what I meant. You’ll return to the capital with your prisoners; you’ll parade them along the avenues; you’ll even set off to bring them to Kamakura – but you’ll never enter the town.”

“Why not?” Yoshitsune asked with a frown.

“Because your brother won’t let you,” Tosh answered simply.

“Why not?” Yoshitsune asked in a shock. “I defeated Kiso no Yoshinaka last year, who wanted to usurp his seat as the _shōgun_. I defeated the Taira in several major battles. I’m about to return the Sacred Mirror and the Bead String box safely. I’ve captured Munemori and his son. It would be natural for His Lordship to give me an important military assignment – Constable-General of the Nine Provinces, or jurisdiction over the Mountain Shade, the Mountain Sun or the Southern Sea Road…”

“He won’t,” Tosh said. “He’s merely going to recommend your appointment as Governor of Iyo. And he won’t even let you enter Kamakura. I’m sorry.”

“But why?” Yoshitsune asked, clearly not having a clue. “No matter what offence I may have committed – although I’m not aware of any – His Lordship ought to receive me once, at least… how else might I present my apologies for whatever I’ve done. What _have_ I done against my brother, that he’d be heartless enough to chase me off to the capital, without even receiving me?”

“You’ve made yourself an enemy in Kajiwara no Kagetochi,” Tosh explained, “and his slander has already poisoned Yoritomo’s heart. Also, rumours of how beloved you are among the people of the western provinces – and that many of them would prefer _you_ as their lord – have reached him. He is jealous of your fame and of the love of people towards you.”

“I’ve warned you,” Benkei muttered angrily. “I’ve told you repeatedly to get rid of that vermin Kagetoshi; and that your lord brother isn’t quite as faithful to you as you are to him. Why did you allow him to belittle you as he’s always done, denying you the promotions you’ve so richly deserved? Two sons of a father are both his sons; it is simply that the firstborn is called the elder and the second the younger. _Anyone_ can rule the country if he puts his mind to it.”

“It is not my ambition to rule the country,” Yoshitsune answered, recovering from his initial shock. “I’m a warrior, not a courtier or an administrator. And I haven’t given up hope yet that I might reconcile with my brother, after all.”

“Then you’re a fool, and the way you’ve chosen will lead you to your inevitable death,” the warrior monk declared angrily. Yoshitsune inclined his head.

“That might be so, and yet this is what I must do,” he glanced at Tosh with a resigned smile. “Is it not so?”

Tosh nodded, her heart going out to him. “I’m afraid it is.”

“How much longer?” Yoshitsune asked, the acceptance in his voice more frightening than any violent outburst might have been.

“Four more years,” Tosh whispered. “Most of them on the run. Hunted by the _shōgun_ ’s people.”

Yoshitsune closed his eyes for a moment. “I see. Will I die with honour?”

“Yes,” Tosh whispered. “Your last stand will become a legend people are still telling nine hundred years from now; yours and his,” she added, glancing at Benkei. “His Lordship the _shōgun_ will be remembered with contempt for the way he treated you. Even though the Kamakura Shōgunate will last for centuries and bring forth a whole new era for our people.”

“In that case, I have no other choice than to follow the path I’ve already begun,” Yoshitsune said. “For the sake of the upcoming generations, I must play my part as it has been written for me by the gods,” he glanced at Tosh again. “Will I have any children who survive me?”

“Yes,” Tosh said, glad to be able to tell him at least _some_ good news. “But I shall not speak about them; not yet.”

Yoshitsune shrugged. “Fair enough. Will the two of you see me to the end of my path?”

“We’ll go with you as far as Heian-kyo,” Tosh answered. “There our ways will part. I’m not eager to see you dead.”

Yoshitsune seemed somewhat disappointed that they’d part with him in the capital. Perhaps he was anxious to learn more about the future. Perhaps he hoped he could change his fate with the help of that knowledge after all… it was hard to tell.

“You _can_ make them stay, if you want,” Benkei suggested, seeing his reluctance to let them go.

Yoshitsune smiled faintly. “Somehow I doubt that our modest wooden chambers could keep people who’ve travelled nine hundred years in time from leaving, if they want to leave,” he said. “But why would you wish to come to Heian-kyo with us?”

“Because I want to see what life was like in this time,” Tosh admitted. “As a child, my mother would tell me tales about the Taira and the Minamoto all the time; tales that have been re-told for centuries. I want to see what the capital looked like when the tales took place for real.”

Yoshitsune smiled again, finding her excitement oddly endearing. “As good a reason to come with us as any, I presume,” he said.

“Besides,” Tosh added with a conspiratory wink, “it would be easier for us to pick up our time ship without drawing unwanted attention. Your house does have a garden, doesn’t it?”

“Of course,” Yoshitsune nodded, “all noble estates do. But why would a ship that can travel through time be better hidden in a garden than on the water?”

“Well,” Tosh hesitated; then, shooting an apologetic look at the Doctor, she offered. “You see, it doesn’t exactly _look_ like a ship. In fact, it looks a lot like a garden shed.”

“Hey!” the Doctor protested, feeling insulted for some vague reason. “The TARDIS doesn’t look like a garden shed. She looks like a police box!”

“Which these people have never seen, so it’s pointless,” Tosh reminded him. “A garden shed is the closest analogy they might understand. Besides, if you could be arsed to repair the dratted chameleon circuitry, she’d be able to take on any necessary form, without standing out like a sore thumb.”

“Yeah, but I _like_ the form of a police box,” the Doctor pointed out. “And I got so used to it; it would be weird to see the TARDIS in any other shape.”

Tosh rolled her eyes. “And you call _me_ stubborn!”

The two warriors stared at them with glassy eyes, half of what they’d said not making any sense to them. _Some_ of it apparently did, though.

“That time ship of yours… it can change its shape?” Benkei finally asked.

“Yep,” the Doctor beamed at him. “Comes in very handy sometimes.

“It _would_ , if you actually _repaired_ her, so that she could work as she was supposed to in the first place,” Tosh corrected.

The Doctor waved off her concern. “Details, pesky little details.”

“Details that could decide between life and death,” Tosh scowled.

Yoshitsune watched their interaction with tolerant amusement. “I assume, then, that you are going to take the more… conservative way of travelling, just like the rest of us,” he said, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Seems so,” Tosh agreed. “How are you going to continue your way once you’ve reached Akashi Beach?”

“On horseback; those who know how to ride, at least,” Yoshitsune answered. “Those who cannot, will ride wickerwork carriages instead, pulled by oxen. Both horses and ox-carriages will be waiting for us at the beach. The prisoners will travel in the carriages, of course; they cannot be trusted on horseback.”

“And which category will the two of us belong to?” the Doctor asked sarcastically.

“I don’t think I could trust _you_ on horseback, either,” Yoshitsune answered bluntly. “Besides, a lady of noble birth is not supposed to ride a horse like a man. It would be… unseemly. Having you ride in the same carriage would also give the Lady Moriko a certain level of protection.”

“My name isn’t Moriko, though,” Tosh smiled.

Yoshitsune smiled back at her. “I’m aware of that fact; but that is the only name I was given… unless you can find it in your heart to trust me with your true name.”

“It isn’t such a big secret,” Tosh laughed. “I’m named Toshiko; and I’m most certainly _not_ of noble birth. Actually, I’m as common as dirt. But that’s all right, you know. In my time, our fate isn’t determined by the family into which we happen to be born.”

Yoshitsune shook his head in amazement. “You may not be of noble birth, Lady Toshiko, but trust me in this: you are _anything_ but common.”

He rose, signalling that the audience was over. All others rose respectfully, too.

“Enjoy the comfort of your quarters, such as they can be on a warship,” he said. “We shall talk again later. For I believe there are still some things you haven’t told me yet.”

“There are,” Tosh admitted readily. “Those are merely details, however, and I think it would be still too early to discuss them.”

“Whenever you find the time ripe,” Yoshitsune agreed amiably.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
But when the two of them had left for their quarters, he turned to Benkei grimly.

“Have Tomoe keep an eye on them, all the time,” he ordered. “I am inclined to believe _her_ – she seems honest enough – but I do not entirely trust _him_. He may be what she says he is – some peculiar being who’s descended from the stars, of course. On the other hand…”

“On the other hand he could also be a Taira assassin, dispatched to kill you, with or without her knowledge,” Benkei finished for him. “Don’t worry, my lord. They won’t be unwatched for as long as a heartbeat. I shall see to _that_.”

Yoshitsune nodded, relieved. “Good. I hope she’ll prove innocent and honest, but one cannot be careful enough.”

“Do you believe her?” Benkei asked after a moment of silence. “The things she’s said about your future… about _our_ future?”

Yoshitsune shrugged. “She seemed honest enough; and what she said does make sense, does it not? Yoritomo _was_ enraged when the Retired Emperor forcefully awarded me various merits he was unable to ignore, without consulting him first – and against his wishes, it seems now. Has he not denied me the appointment to the office of _kokushi_ , while he recommended three other warriors, including our brother Noriyori? Now it appears that he didn’t want me to be allowed access to the imperial court at all.”

“He did intervene to secure the daughter of Kawagoe Shigeyori for you as your prominent wife, though,” Benkei said.

“I’m starting to think that was only to have me watched, even in my own house,” Yoshitsune said darkly, “although our daughter brings much joy in my life. I wonder if she’ll be the one who survives me, as the Lady Toshiko said.”

“You like her,” Benkei stated, with a hint of a smile on his bearded face. Yoshitsune shrugged, not denying it at all.

“I do. She’s got fire and independence in her that I haven’t seen in any woman before; not even in Tomoe. She seems to have a kind nature, though, and yet she also possesses bravery; a different kind of bravery that comes from a stout heart, I think. Besides, she’s lovely, too; not a classical beauty like Shizuka or my wife, but all the more endearing in her imperfection.”

Benkei shook his head in amusement. “You’re hopeless when it comes to a woman who happens to touch your heart,” he said. “Are you going to bed her?”

“And have her guardian take my head by magic or some other sinister way?” Yoshitsune asked wryly. “I don’t think so.”

It was Benkei’s turn to shrug now. “Don’t ask _him_ , then,” he suggested. “As _her_. I have a feeling that she has her eye on you.”

“Nonsense,” Yoshitsune said, but there was a wistful tone in his voice. Benkei shrugged again.

“You’ll never know, unless you ask her,” he pointed out.

“And we shall never reach Heian-kyo, unless we prepare ourselves to set off in the morning,” Yoshitsune returned evasively.

Recognizing a dismissal when he heard one, Benkei left to distribute his lord’s orders.


	6. The Return to Heian-kyō

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to “Greeks Bearing Gifts,” Tosh was born in July 1975, was snatched up by a think tank at the age of 20 and had (most likely) at least one PhD. This all was altered later to diminish her and make Gwen more important. But I for my part stick to the original data. So she’s 29 at the time this adventure takes place, which makes her (comparatively) three years older than Yoshitsune (1159-1189).
> 
> The _Hour of the Sheep_ is one of the double-hour periods of the day, approximately 1 pm-3pm. Accordingly, the _Hour of the Tiger_ is the period between 3 am and 5am. The poems cited are the genuine items, taken from the _Heike monogatari_.
> 
> The crippling injury of Wada Yoshimori is my invention; in truth, he was the one to verify Yoshitsune’s identity after his death, four years later. Let’s just assume he’s recovered.
> 
> Beta read by the generous badly_knitted

**PART FOUR – RETURN TO HEIAN-KYō**

The boat trip along the coast to Akashi Beach took almost three weeks. Mostly because they often had to stop by this or that village to get some food for the soldiers and the Taira prisoners. The latter ones were in understandably low spirits.

“We resemble a Zhu Maichen returning without brocade,” the Taira Major Counsellor Tokitada complained, his face grey with grief. Unlike most of his peers, he seemed to find it very hard to reconcile with the possible fate he could expect.

“Indeed, our lot can only be compared to Wang Zhajouri’s distress when she went into the Xiongnu land,” the Lady Sotsu-no-suke replied mournfully.

Unfortunately, the allusions didn’t ring a bell with Tosh, so she just shrugged and tried to be as supportive as she could, knowing all too well what kind of future was waiting for them. The one she grieved for most was the eight-year-old son of Taira no Munemori, who hadn’t been allowed to see his father so far, travelling aboard another ship, in the custody of a trusted warrior.

“I could reconcile with just about everything, one way or another,” she told Tomoe Gozen, “ _except_ with the execution of children. I just can’t understand how a compassionate man like Yoshitsune would order such a dreadful thing.”

The lady samurai gave her a look of pitying indulgence.

“Because he knows what would await such a young boy if he’s put into a monastery, just to save his life,” she replied. “ _Hōgan_ has lived through that himself; and trust me, it isn’t such a merciful fate as some might think. Besides, His Lordship the _shōgun_ would never allow any male Taira offspring to survive. He’s learned his lesson well; he’s not going to nurture a Taira rebellion, led by a vengeful young lord in ten or fifteen years.”

“I know,” Tosh sighed. “I know it will happen; in fact, I know it already _has_ happened from where I’m standing. It’s still very hard to accept.”

“You come from a very different time,” Tomoe reminded her. “I’ve been raised to think such things are natural; you haven’t. That’s why it bothers you so much and why it doesn’t particularly bother _me_.”

“Perhaps,” Tosh allowed doubtfully. Since it turned out that Tomoe had been eavesdropping on her entire conversation with Yoshitsune, there was no need to hide the truth of her origins from the lady warrior. Besides, talking to a woman could be a relief sometimes.

“Trust me; _that’s_ a big difference,” Tomoe said. For a while, they looked at the shore swimming by before their eyes in companionable silence; then Tomoe picked up the conversation again. “You told me there were rumours that I’d become Wada Yoshimori’s wife.” Tosh nodded. “Yet I know for a fact that Wada Yoshimori suffered a crippling injury in his last battle and lies at home, too weakened to even take his own life. What else do your tales tell about me?”

“Nothing conclusive beyond the death of Lord Kiso,” Tosh admitted. “Certainly not that you’d serve Yoshitsune as the protector of his wife.”

“Then it’s probably not supposed to happen,” said Tomoe thoughtfully. “If his main wife and his daughter survive, without my name mentioned, then perhaps I ought to be in another place… or in another _time_.”

Tosh wasn’t sure she’d heard it right. “You want to come with us?”

The lady samurai nodded. “Consider this: according to your tales, I’d all but vanished from the face of the earth by now – well, save for that foolish story concerning Wada Yoshimori, which we both know to be false. Perhaps that’s what really happened in what you see as a past long gone… people just never learned the truth about it.”

“Well, if you see it from that angle…” Tosh wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but she had to admit that it was hard to find any arguments _against_ it.

“Do you think this… this _Doctor_ of yours would take me along?” Tomoe asked. “Even though I’m only a woman?”

“Hey, he’s known to travel in female company all the time; he’s travelling with _me_ , isn’t he?” Tosh said. “But you’d better ask him yourself. I’m not sure he’d be very receptive to whatever _I’d_ suggest right now.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a little mad at me at the moment,” Tosh explained. “For the idea of staying and watching the battle; he despises violence. For making him waste time rowing along the coast in such a slow ship; he’s not used to this kind of travel, I’m afraid. _His_ ship tends to vanish in the wink of an eye and then reappear somewhere – or some _when_ – else in the next moment.”

“By magic?” Tomoe’s eyes were as big as dinner plates.

“By science,” Tosh corrected. “There is no such thing as magic, no matter what the monks are trying to make you believe. There is just technology that we don’t understand… not _yet_.”

“Not yet – but we will one day?” Tomoe asked uncertainly. Tosh grinned.

“I certainly hope so. That’s what I usually do for a living, after all.”

“Are you some sort of lore-master?” Tomoe guessed.

“No,” Tosh laughed. “I’m a technician… like the people who build houses or boats or… or war machines. I just don’t build them with my own hands. I’m the one who figures out _how_ to make them; others do the actual building.” Which was the closest thing she could tell about her work in her own time, but it seemed enough for the other woman.

“You are amazing,” Tomoe said, shaking her head in awe, “and so sounds your world. I’d like to see it with my own eyes.”

“There _is_ a chance for that,” Tosh replied. “Ask the Doctor. He likes to have people around him; perhaps he’ll be willing to take you with us.”

“But what do I tell him?” Tomoe wondered.

“Tell him the truth,” Tosh advised. “Tell him everything you’ve told me. That should do the trick.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Tomoe decided after a moment of consideration; then something seemed to occur to her. “By the way, _Hōgan_ wants to speak with you. He expects you right at the beginning of the _Hour of the Sheep_.”

“Have you any idea what he might want?” Tosh asked in surprise. Yoshitsune had not spoken to her aside from the occasional greeting for two days. Tomoe shook her head.

“No, but he seems concerned; has been ever since he got that message from one of the Taira prisoners.”

“Which one?” Tosh asked, trying to remember all those people and their possible connections to Yoshitsune.

“Major Counsellor Tokitada,” Tomoe saw the recognition on Tosh’s face and asked with a frown. “You know what this is about?”

“I might,” Tosh replied slowly, “although I always thought it hadn’t happened before the return to Heian-kyō. But facts may have been forgotten – or deliberately changed – during the centuries between your time and mine.”

“Will you go then and speak with _Hōgan_?” Tomoe asked. “Will you help him to make the right choices?”

“I will,” Tosh said. “I’ve come this far to help preserve the timeline, after all.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
She found Yoshitsune in a mildly agitated state indeed, with only the ever-present Benkei as his company. However, even the warrior monk was sent away upon her arrival, so that they could talk in private (although Tosh strongly suspected he would be listening from behind the one or other wall panel anyway).

“I’ve been confronted with an interesting problem,” Yoshitsune said without preamble, after having offered her a seat. “The Taira Major Counsellor Tokitada sent me a message, offering me one of his daughters as a second wife.”

He gave Tosh a shrewd look, but she simply shrugged and gave an evasive answer.

“Under the circumstances, he ought to have reconciled himself to whatever the future may hold for him,” she said. “It seems life is still precious to him, though.”

“So you, too, believe that this offer was born out of the need of self-preservation,” Yoshitsune said. It wasn’t really a question, but Tosh nodded nevertheless.

“You have the reputation, even in my time, of never rejecting a woman’s plea, however important the matter might be,” she replied. “I believe the Major Counsellor is counting on that rumour.”

“But it isn’t in my power to decide whether he’ll live or die,” Yoshitsune said, puzzled. “Only Yoritomo can give the order. Does he believe His Lordship would be more merciful towards him if he becomes related to me?”

“No,” Tosh said slowly. “I don’t think so. He’s an experienced courtier; he ought to know better how these things work.”

“So there’s something else,” Yoshitsune said. “A matter that seems of less importance, yet might harm him greatly; unless I do something to save him.”

“That is correct,” Tosh replied.

“Important enough that he, who’s reportedly hoped to make his daughters junior consorts and empresses, would be willing to marry off one of them to an ordinary warrior like me?” Yoshitsune asked, a little bewildered, for Taira no Tokitada’s high aspirations had been the object of common knowledge (and much amusement) throughout the capital for years.

Tosh nodded. “Again, that is correct."

“And why would I be inclined to accept his offer and thus risk raising my brother’s ire even more?” Yoshitsune asked. “Kyo no Kimi, the bride he’s offering me, is already twenty-three years old, and not even his favourite daughter.”

“I know,” Tosh said, which surprised him even more.

“Are you telling me that even such minor details of my life are known in your time?”

Tosh shrugged. “You’re _the_ tragic hero of the century. People have been known to drench their sleeves mourning your fate for countless generations. Many tales exist about your deeds and the women you loved; most of them mere fabrications, but some are based on the truth…or what _we_ know as the truth.”

“And what do your tales tell you?” Yoshitsune asked. “Will I marry the daughter of the Taira Major Counsellor?”

“It is said that – even though she was a little old – her beauty and her gentle nature won your heart,” Tosh replied. “You _did_ marry her; and installed her in separate, richly furnished apartments and treated her with the greatest affection. What?” she asked, seeing the strange expression on his face.

Yoshitsune shook his head. “Nothing; it is just deeply odd how you speak of things that haven’t even happened yet in the past tense.”

“It _is_ the past for me,” Tosh reminded him. “For me, these things have already happened, a _very_ long time ago. I’m just having a hard time making the distinction between facts and legends.”

“But to your best knowledge, I _did_ marry Kyo no Kimi,” Yoshitsune said, and Tosh nodded. “And I did for whatever favour her father had hoped for when he offered her to me.” 

Tosh nodded again. Yoshitsune accepted that, thinking for a moment. “Did that action get me in trouble with His Lordship the _shōgun_?”

“He wasn’t happy about you marrying a lady of Taira blood,” Tosh replied diplomatically, “but since he never learned _what_ you did for your father-in-law, it didn’t make your situation any worse than it had already been.”

“And you won’t tell me _what_ exactly the Major Counsellor wants me to do for him,” Yoshitsune said. It wasn’t a question, either. He’d come to know where she stood with such things already.

Tosh shook her head determinedly. She didn’t believe that him knowing about the compromising letters would change history, but she chose to err on the safe side.

“I know very little about the events that are going to happen,” she said thoughtfully. “I believe it will be too early to reveal the future yet. That could lead to changes that may prove disastrous. Have patience for a little while yet, my lord. My mentor and I have accompanied you to Heian-kyō for a reason. Let me see how things develop and choose the time I see proper. I _will_ tell you the truth, I promise, before we leave.”

“You could leave at will any time you wanted to, couldn’t you?” Yoshitsune asked with a wry smile. Tosh nodded, hoping that she was right.

“We could. But I chose to stay for a while; to see events with my own eyes. Events that were but tales from a distant past for me all my life.”

“So, that’s what I am for you,” Yoshitsune’s voice was genuinely amused. “A vague figure from an ancient tale. A figment of imagination.”

“A hero from a hero’s tale,” Tosh corrected. “I knew you’d been real once. I’ve visited your tomb as a child often enough to pay my respects.”

“My tomb?” Yoshitsune gave no sign that he found the topic the least bit weird. “Where does it stand in your time, then?”

“Nobody can tell for sure,” Tosh admitted. “There are several tombs scattered all over the country said to be yours… and Shizuka Gozen’s. Since people can no longer tell which one is the true item, each region has built their own version to honour you.”

“I see,” amusement twinkled in the dark eyes again. “And now that you’ve met me in the flesh, are you very disappointed?”

Tosh stared at him in surprise. “Why would I be disappointed?”

Yoshitsune shrugged. “I’ve been told repeatedly that I don’t make a very heroic figure. A stripling they usually call me, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Because you’re small by stature?” Tosh clarified. Yoshitsune nodded. Tosh shrugged. “Greatness does not lie in brawn alone; and besides, have you not defeated Benkei with a war fan alone? I am told that was a feat no other man was ever able to do.”

“So am I told, too, and by the most reliable source,” Yoshitsune agreed with a smile. Tosh shrugged again.

“Well, there you have it, then. Although I for my part value a sharp mind and a compassionate heart way above brutal strength. Besides,” she added with a conspiratorial wink, “you’re not exactly hard on the eye, either.”

Yoshitsune inclined his head in a half-serious gesture of thanks.

“Would you be willing then to share my bed tonight, my lady?” he asked without preamble. The request surprised Tosh a great deal.

“Do you always ask permission of your prisoners before you bed them?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Yoshitsune simply, and Tosh actually believed him. A man of his rank and excellent reputation didn’t _need_ to force himself upon anyone. Most women of his era would be honoured to be chosen by him. And as he was married already and had a mistress of exquisite beauty aside from his prominent wife, there could be no doubt that he’d know how to pleasure his bed partner. Being a good lover was a matter of pride, too, in his time.

Tosh considered her choices for a moment. She was still under medication to regulate her cycle that had gotten off-kilter during her time in prison, so there was no danger that she might conceive a child out of her time. _That_ would have been most inconvenient. But with that problem not needing to be taken under consideration… why should she not have some fun with a living legend?

“I have to think about it,” she said.

Yoshitsune inclined his head politely. “Of course, my lady. I shall be waiting for your decision.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“Are you seriously considering going to him tonight?” the Doctor asked with a frown.

Tosh shrugged; she seemed to do that a lot around him. “I wouldn’t do it with someone at home, in my own time; it would be too… complicated. Too dangerous for anyone I might get involved with. But here and now…what harm could it do?”

The Doctor looked at her intently. “Is it that simple for you?”

“ _Simple_?” Tosh was getting really angry. “You believe this is _simple_? I’d been alone since way before I was thrown into prison, without joy, without a little human warmth in my life, and when I return, I’ll be alone again. You have no right to judge me!”

The Doctor shook his head in regret. “I don’t judge you. I’m just afraid that your hero worship will cause you a lot of grief.”

Tosh smiled tiredly. “Don’t worry about me. I can make a clear distinction between the legends I grew up with and the very real young man who’s invited me to share his bed tonight.”

“As long as you’re sure,” the Doctor still seemed to have his doubts. Or he was simply uncomfortable. As far as Tosh knew, Time Lords could procreate by asexual cloning and never speak about it to anyone. Perhaps she ought to ask Jack after her return. Jack was the person who’d know such things.

“I am,” she replied simply.

“You should take certain precautions, though,” the Doctor warned. “I doubt that these people here know the meaning of birth control.”

“That’s all right,” Tosh said. “I’m already on medication.”

“Very well,” the Doctor sighed. “I can’t hold you back forcibly, after all.”

“No, you can’t,” Tosh agreed amiably. “I’m a big girl, Doctor, and I know about the birds and the bees… probably more than you do, at least where humans are concerned. Let me make my own choices. Please.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
And it turned out that she’d made the right choice indeed. The tales all agreed on one point: that Yoshitsune had a gentle nature, despite being a warrior, and those tales proved right. He treated Tosh as if she were something rare and precious… and very fragile, all but worshipping her body, using his considerable experience and skills to please her, holding back as long as he could… which was a whole lot longer than any man Tosh had been with in her entire life. 

And when he could hold back no longer, he asked her with infinite politeness. “May I come inside you, my lady?”

Tosh smiled up at him, her eyes dark with want. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And so he finally joined with her; and he did so a second time that night, and if the first time was good, the second time was even better, and the only regret Tosh felt afterwards came from the knowledge that they would never get another chance to rejoice in each other.

“If this is how you treat your consorts, they can count themselves very fortunate,” she said, combing his hair with her fingers.

Yoshitsune laughed; like all men, the praise of his virility delighted him greatly.

“If one is a stripling, one has to make up for the lack of size with greater skills,” he answered. “That’s true for the battle of weapons as well as for the battle of love.”

Tosh gave his lower regions a meaningful look. “There’s nothing wrong with your _size_ where it truly matters,” she declared.

For a moment, Yoshitsune stared at her in shocked disbelief; then he started laughing so hard that tears were shining in his eyes.

“You are the strangest woman I’ve met in my whole life,” he said.

“That’s because you’re still very young,” Tosh countered.

“I’m not _that_ young,” Yoshitsune replied with a frown. “I’ve been winning battles for that ungrateful brother of mine for five years by now!”

Tosh laughed. “You’re still younger than I am.”

Yoshitsune stared at her in honest surprise. “That can’t be!”

“Oh yes, it can,” Tosh smiled, because right now, he truly looked every bit as young as his number of years. “I _am_ older than you. Not much older, mind you, just by three years; but where I come from… _when_ I come from… childhood and the time of youth are considerably longer. Men of your age are often still in higher school, preparing for the work they are going to do. We live longer, too; my grandfather has already passed his eightieth year.”

Yoshitsune listened to her in awe. “What I would give to see your world! It must be a remarkable time.”

“It has its moments,” Tosh admitted. “Not only good ones, admittedly; no time is perfect. But I like it; although I believe you’d feel utterly lost in my time.”

“Why?” he asked, openly curious.

“Things have changed too much for you to adapt, I fear,” Tosh replied. “ _Values_ have changed; although our people are still greatly concerned about rank, position and personal honour. Still, it would feel more… alien for you than living among the Ice Warriors of Mars.”

Yoshitsune furrowed his brow in confusion. “I know not what you are talking about.”

Tosh laughed and kissed him. He was adorable when confused… he looked so very young. “That’s another long tale for another time,” she said.

“Tell me?” he asked like a child for a bedtime story. She glanced out of the small window and saw that dawn was just about to break.

“Later, perhaps,” she said. “We’re well into the _Hour of the Tiger_ already. I must return to my own quarters.”

But Yoshitsune held her back for a moment. “Will you come to me again tonight?” he asked. “When we reach Heian-kyō, I’ll marry the daughter of the Taira Major Counsellor, and my new wife will expect to have my affections as it will be her due. But for the length of this journey I am free of other obligations, and I’d like to share pleasure with you again… if you are willing.”

Tosh hesitated for a moment. This was the most polite and yet most honest proposal she’d got from a man all her life. He knew what he could offer was little enough and was being very frank about it. But what he _could_ offer was offered honestly and without any strings attached.

“I’ll… think about it,” she finally said, kissing him good-bye. But she already knew that she _would_ return to him.

Apparently so did he, because he let her go with the very same words as in the afternoon. “Of course, my lady. I shall be waiting for your decision.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
On the sixteenth of the fourth month they finally arrived at Akashi Beach on their way to the capital, with all the Taira prisoners on board. As befit so famous a strand, the clear moon rose even higher while the night deepened, painting everything and everyone below in an almost mythical hue of silver.

“This is a sight no less beautiful than the skies of autumn,” Yoshitsune commented softly.

He and Tosh were standing on the roof of the central cabin of his flagship, indulging in the old custom of moon-watching, arms wrapped loosely around each other’s waist. They were of the same height, Tosh perhaps an inch or two taller, as Yoshitsune was truly a small man, even by the measure of Japanese people of his era. But as Tosh could not wear high heels here, the difference was barely visible.

They were a perfect match; and not only height-wise, as their shared nights had shown. Tosh _had_ returned to his bed almost every night – unless he was hindered by some military or political matter – and found it harder to let him go with each passing day. Yet she knew she had no other choice; just as Yoshitsune knew he had to walk his path to the bitter end and accept an early, undeserved death. They could not endanger the future, regardless of their personal losses.

Below, on the deck of the ship, the captured court ladies were gathering and shedding quiet tears.

“We never dreamed of such a return when we passed this way two years ago,” one of them said mournfully.

Lady Sotsu-no-suke, the current wife of the Taira Major Counsellor (though _not_ the mother of Yoshitsune’s future bride, Kyo no Kimi, who was the offspring of an earlier wife) seemed the most desperate. Which was understandable, considering that her husband had once enjoyed splendid popularity and success as elder brother to a late empress and maternal uncle to Emperor Takakura. He had risen swiftly in the ranks of the court and had served in important positions repeatedly – all of which meant court positions and great respect for his wife, too.

Under normal circumstances, being married to one of Tokitada’s daughters would have meant considerable social ascension for someone like Yoshitsune. Of course, under normal circumstances he couldn’t have _dreamt_ of marrying a daughter of such an exalted family. This was a terrible disgrace on the whole clan – though one that might save the life of the family head.

Standing near the plank of the ship, the Lady Sotsu-no-suke was weeping openly, her gaze fixed on the moon. She was murmuring something in a mournful tone. Tosh strained her ears to understand what it was, and soon realized that the lady was expressing her feelings in verse, as it was wont among the court ladies of the late Heian era.

When I gaze at you,  
you come to find a lodging  
in my tear-drenched sleeve.  
Give me an account, O moon,  
of the place where the clouds rest.

How it saddens me  
to behold the clear, bright rays –  
the moonlight unchanged  
from those days in the past  
when I viewed it above the clouds!

And the Lady Dainagon-no-suke, the wife of Taira no Shigehira who was currently awaiting his execution in Kamakura, answered in kind.

I myself, I know  
must sleep as a traveller  
at Akashi Beach –  
but now the moonlight also  
comes to lodge on the same waves.

Although a battle-hardened warrior, Yoshitsune once again gave proof of his compassionate nature, pitying the captives from the bottom of his heart. He was also clearly impressed by the ladies’ ability to express themselves in the finest poetry on such a night.

“How sad and nostalgic they must feel,” he commented softly. “I wonder if _I’ll_ feel like this when my final hour comes and I have to face my inevitable fate.”

“That is something not even I can tell you,” Tosh answered. “I do know, though, that you’ll never let yourself be captured. You’ll go the same way you’ve lived: you shall attack flat out and win; even though the only thing you’ll be able to win is your personal honour. That’s how you’ll become a legend.”

“Your words are great comfort for me,” Yoshitsune said. “In truth, _you are_ great comfort for me; I loath the thought to let you go.”

“Yet you must,” Tosh answered. “I would be as much out of my depth in your time as you’d be in mine; and I have obligations at home, too, that I must fulfil. This short time span is all that we are given; we must make the most of it and accept that it will end, soon.”

“I know,” Yoshitsune said flatly. “It does not mean I have to _like_ it, though.”

With that, he kissed her deeply and then returned to the deck to give the orders to erect temporary pavilions on the shore where they would sleep that night. Tosh followed him, joining Tomoe on the deck to help unpacking. Neither of them noticed the Doctor, watching them with worried eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
It took them another ten days to reach the capital, as they continued their journey on land, and the horsemen had to adapt to the much slower speed of the ox-carts. Also, the raising of temporary lodgings and the deconstruction of them on the next morning cost considerable time, too, as well as the meeting with the welcoming commission sent from the imperial palace to welcome the Sacred Treasures in Toba. 

So it was on the twenty-sixth of the fourth month that the Taira prisoners entered the capital in their wickerwork carriage decorated with eight-petalled lotus-blossom designs. The front and rear blinds had been raised and the left and right windows were opened, so that everyone could see them, which was a grave violation of their privacy and thus utterly humiliating.

The carriage bearing Tosh and the Doctor had been sent forward to occupy a position near Rokujo Avenue, from where they could watch things undisturbed. Technically, they were still considered prisoners of war and ought to be paraded along the avenues with the Taira captives, but Yoshitsune had decided to spare them, just as he had spared the ill and the wounded. However, Tosh had been given a wide-brimmed hat with long veils all around the edge to hide her face (the type that was known as _ichime-gasa_ ). This way, her likeness to the late Lady Moriko could not be spotted and she would not raise any suspicions.

For the first time in weeks, the Doctor was actually showing some interest in their surroundings.

“I hadn’t expected so many spectators,” he said in surprise. “People literally form a living wall along the entire route. Has gloating over the bad luck of others always been this popular on this planet?”

“They have not come to gloat,” Tosh answered. “Many of them are former intimates of the Taira Clan – men who enjoyed their favour for years and rendered them services for generations. They may have turned to the Minamoto to save themselves, but they cannot forget past kindnesses overnight, and their hearts must be heavy indeed. Look how many in the crowd are pressing their sleeves to their faces, weeping!”

“I guess, seeing the bad luck of their masters must be hard on them,” the Doctor agreed.

“It isn’t about bad luck,” Tosh said. ”It’s about _shame_. For a noble warrior, shame is worse than death.”

“Is that, then, why they threw themselves into the sea by the dozen after the lost battle?” the Doctor asked with a frown. “How barbaric!”

Tosh nodded. “And that’s why Taira no Munemori will always be remembered with contempt,” she said. “Because he could have escaped shame and he chose not to.”

The Doctor leaned out of their carriage to catch a glimpse of the dishonoured head of the Taira Clan – or what was left of it – who was being paraded at the head of the train just coming into view.

“For someone who’s lost his face beyond repair, he seems to be in good enough spirits,” he commented. After a sharp glance of her own, Tosh had to admit that he was right.

The once so dashing and handsome Munemori, now wearing a plain white hunting robe, was so thin and worn that he almost seemed a different person from the proud warlord who’d questioned them aboard his ship. Still, he was gazing around him with something akin to hope. His son, Kiyomune, on the other hand, was lying prone in the rear of their carriage, with lowered eyes; the perfect picture of misery.

“I don’t know what kind of hope Munemori is still nursing,” Tosh said. “He must know, as his son clearly does, that there’s no way for them to survive. Moreover, he’s sentenced his son to a shameful death; if not for him, Kiyomune would have drowned himself after the lost battle. He’s said to have been a young man very conscious of his personal honour… and die they will in any case.”

“Why didn’t he kill himself, then?” the Doctor asked.

“Because first and foremost, he is an obedient son, following the example set by his father,” Tosh sighed. “You must understand, Doctor, that my people are very different from the humans you have usually dealt with. Family obligations weigh much more heavily for us than our individual interests; and back in the twelfth century, it was a great deal more true than it is in my time.”

“But it’s still very true in your time,” the Doctor realized, “or else you wouldn’t have risked everything to help your mother, to whom you aren’t even all that close. Including a lifelong sentence in a UNIT prison.”

Tosh nodded. “True, on both instances.”

The Doctor was silent for a while. “I see,” he then said. “And I’m actually grateful for the accident that made us visit this place and this time. I don’t think I’d have been able to fully understand you otherwise.”

Tosh smiled and offered him a hand. “Friends again, then?”

“Friends,” the Doctor took her hand. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. You’re right – I’m not entitled to judge you; and I didn’t really. I was just worried about you.”

“I know that,” Tosh felt her heart warming for this strange man – this _alien_ – who’d cared enough to risk a fall-out between them, just to protect her. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m not a little girl anymore. “I’ve seen things that would drive most people strong, bonking mad, and I’m still here. And for the first time since my time in prison, I actually feel young again.”

“About that, I’m truly glad,” the Doctor said honestly. “I still can’t condone what we’ve seen here, though, and what we’re about to see yet.”

“That’s all right, Doctor,” Tosh replied. “Neither can I. I accept it as an integral part of this historic period, but I can’t agree with it. As Tomoe Gozen said, neither of us was raised to think it would be normal. These people _were_. And that makes a big difference. Bigger than either of us could reconcile with, I think.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the meantime, the procession reached the intersection of Rokujo and Higashi-no-toin avenues, where the carriages of senior nobles and courtiers still not fallen from grace were drawn up in rows to watch the spectacle. Among them, Tosh could spot the banner of Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa himself; not that it surprised her. She knew the former sovereign would be here to say his farewells to the men who had once been his closest attendants.

Of course, the old man wasn’t entirely innocent in their fates, either. History had preserved his reputation as a ruthless man, the grey eminence behind the Chrysanthemum Throne, who swung from supporting one warrior clan to supporting the opposing one, just to conserve his power and influence, sacrificing everyone to fulfil his goals, including his sons and his grandsons.

So no, Tosh couldn’t really be touched by his coming to see his former allies for a last time. The reaction of the other nobles and commons all around them seemed a great deal more genuine. Tears of compassion could be seen on many faces.

“Back in the days, when everyone was desperate for a glance or a word from one of these men, who could have thought they would come to this?” she heard someone near to her carriage say.

“In bygone years, on the occasion of Lord Munemori’s formal expression of gratitude for his appointment as Palace Minister, the carriages of eleven other senior nobles followed in his train, and fifty courtiers rode in his vanguard,” someone else added. 

“Senior nobles and courtiers alike decked themselves out in dazzling array for what they saw as a great public event,” the first voice replied in agreement. “Their numbers included four Middle Counsellors and three Middle Captains of Third Rank!”

Which had probably been a great honour, although Tosh didn’t truly remember what the actual meaning of all those pompous titles might have been. She was a computer genius, not an historian. At the Doctor’s questioning look, she just shrugged.

“And when the Major Counsellor was Commander of the Left Gate Guards, he was called before the Retired Emperor himself,” a third voice said. “He was given gifts and otherwise entertained with splendid ceremony, they say. But not a single senior noble or courtier accompanies them now!”

Which was very true, of course. The sole attendants of Munemori and Tokitada were twenty samurai in white _hitatare_ ; men captured with them at Dan-no-ura, who rode tied to their saddles. Having listened to the comments of the spectators, the Doctor suddenly understood a little better what Tosh had meant by _shame_. Being paraded along the avenues, bereft of their splendid attire and impressive entourage, the loss of prestige must have been devastating for the Taira lords. 

Almost as devastating as the loss of life. In the eyes of many of them, perhaps even more so.

“What now?” he asked when the train had gone to the riverbed and back.

“Now we’ll be taken to Yoshitsune’s estate,” Tosh answered. “And then, we’ll hopefully be able to leave. I find that I’ve really seen enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poems of the court ladies are genuine items. They have been preserved since the 12th century.


	7. Strange Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Horikawa mansion on Rakujo Avenue was a historically existing place; both Yoshitsune’s wives and his mistress did also exist, although there are some variations about their parentage and their fate.
> 
> This chapter is not yet beta read.

PART SIX – STRANGE RELATIONS

As it was proper for a man of his rank, Yoshitsune owned a respectable estate at Rakujo Avenue; presumably a confiscated one, gifted upon him by the Retired Emperor, since as an until recently powerless orphan he could never have achieved it on his own. It was a classic example of Heian period architecture: a matter of single-story, sprawling mansions, connected by covered walkways to other subsidiary buildings, enclosing a garden with a pond and rivulets, and surrounded by a wall of packed earth and stone.

“Impressive,” the Doctor commented. “Especially for someone who, as you told me, was a penniless exile only a few years ago.”

Tosh nodded. “I imagine there were a lot of vacancies when the Taira lords fled the capitol,” she said, “or else the estate originally belonged to his wife. 

“Actually, it didn’t,” Tomoe, who’d caught the gist of their conversation, corrected. “Horikawa mansion has always been the Clan’s headquarters in the imperial city. My Lord Kiso used to live here when he briefly gained control of the capital; and I lived here with him.”

“So, this isn’t actually Yoshi’s house?” the Doctor asked.

“Don’t let him hear butcher his name like this,” Tosh warned. “Adult names are always carefully selected and have great significance for their wearers. Maiming one’s name is considered a mortal offence.”

“That’s right,” Tomoe agreed. “But no, the mansion doesn’t belong to _Hōgan_. It belongs to the Clan. But since both His Lordship the _shōgun_ and Lord Noriyori have their own fortresses in the provinces under their rule, they have not opposed to _Hōgan_ establishing himself here… not so far, that is.” And with that ominous comment, she rode forward to join the other retainers of her lord.

“In any case,” Tosh said, “this style of architecture hasn’t changed much in the following centuries. It’s called _shinden-zukuri_ , after the main pavilion known as the _shinden_.”

“ _Shinden_ ,” the Doctor tried the word. “It means sleeping hall, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Tosh agreed, “stating its purpose clearly enough. The _shinden_ , rather than any other building in the estate, is the primary residence of the householder… meaning the private quarters of Yoshitsune, in our case.”

Said main pavilion was oriented facing south, with a staircase opening onto a garden built to contain a hill and a pond. In the pond, there was a small island, reachable by a garden bridge. A small fishing pavilion, a _tsuridomo_ , was built abutting the artificial pond at the south of the courtyard.

Behind the main hall stood the northern pavilion: an especially lovely one, roofed in layers of cypress bark, like a traditional Shintō shrine. Female servants, clad in everyday wear – white _kazami_ , undergarments in dark colours and a split shirt – were going in and out of that building.

“Some important person must be living there,” the Doctor said.

“The northern pavilion was usually reserved for the _kita no kana_.” Tosh replied.

The Doctor gave her a blank look. “The _what_?”

“The main wife,” Tosh explained. “ _Kita no kana_ literally means ‘northern personage”, because the main wife always had the northern pavilion for her, her children and her servants.”

“The _main_ wife?” the Doctor repeated. Tosh shrugged.

“Polygamy _was_ the norm for the aristocracy of the Heian era; and the samurai clans of high birth adopted the practice. Both the Taira and the Minamoto clans descended from younger sons of past Emperors; sons who had no chance to ascend to the Chrysanthemum Throne themselves. High-ranking men often had their main wife and their consorts on the same estate, while setting up other noble wives in separate houses.”

The Doctor shot a questioning look at the eastern and western pavilions, also connected to the main hall by roofed galleries, but Tosh shook her head.

“No, I meant on different _estates_ … although, thinking of it, I might be mistaken. I’m not actually a scholar of this era, you know. All I know comes from childhood stories.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Their conversation was interrupted by a servant who came to show them to their rooms. She led them directly to the main building that was currently being rearranged from having previously four rooms into six, by moving the removable, sliding, painted _shōji_ door panels into different positions. This way, the servants reduced the size of the _moya_ , the central space of the house, creating slightly wider _hishashi_ , or eaves, and breaking them up into ad-hoc rooms for the guests on the southern side of the building.

All these temporary rooms were of utter simplicity: furniture practically nonexistent, save for the _tatami_ , placed on the floor both as seats and as beddings, the chests in which the clothes were kept, and the occasional low, lacquered table. The only chamber that had encircling, immovable walls, solid and plastered, with a single door for an entrance, was a small rectangular one in the west end of the _moya_. This chamber, called the _nurigome_ , was the inner sanctum of the home, where any family treasures were usually kept. Apparently, it also functioned as a private sleeping chamber for the householder.

The _moya_ was also provided with a _tokonoma_ : an alcove for the display of a flower arrangement, and a few carefully chosen objects of art; in this case delicate figurines of lacquered wood and a beautifully painted scroll hung up behind the flowers.

The _hisashi_ was encircled by a further floored section, another step down called the _sunoko_ , or veranda – technically outside the building, although still under the eaves. The flooring in this _sunoko_ was spaced slightly so that just in case rain bypassed the eaves the water would run through. It also allowed for seating and functioned as a general gallery when events were going on in the courtyard.

The main stair descended from the centre front of the _sunoko_. This stairway, wide and with a floored platform on ground level, was called the _kizahashi_. It was here, at the foot of the five-step stair, that honoured guests would descend from their carts or carriages.

Off the head of the stair and back from the _sunoko_ , in the central bay of the eaves, was a sort of reception space where the head of the household could sit in state and greet guests or observe any activities going on in the central courtyard. A couple of _tatami_ were placed on the floor for a seat, and then flanked by an artful combination of curtains of state, screens and shelves.

In this small reception chamber, above the stairs, the ladies of the house were waiting for their lord and his guests. They were accompanied by a richly-clad samurai: one of Yoshitsune’s most trusted retainers, whom he’d left behind to protect his family.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Yoshitsune’s prominent wife was easily recognizable by her semi-formal dress, worn by court ladies when entertaining honoured guests. It was the multi-layered style commonly called _juni-hitoe_ , which literally meant “twelve layers” or “twelve clothes”. While the literal meaning was clearly an exaggeration, she was nonetheless wearing as many as five _uchigi_ , fine silk robes, in rich greens, reds and oranges, over her white _hitoe_ , as well as the formal _hakama_ (full plaited skirt also worn by men instead of trousers), dyed red, too.

Since near the end of the fourth month Heian-kyō was already quite hot, she did not wear any more outer robes. The fact that she was allowed to wear red in colour and twilled silk in material revealed that she was favoured by the imperial court, making Tosh wonder who exactly her father might be, as usually only those of imperial blood were granted that boon – or very well-favoured court ladies.

Her hairstyle was the usual _same-gami_ , the long, straight hair let down to spill along her back like black ink, with only a pair of short tresses, the _binsogi_ , hanging on both sides of her face, marking her married status. In one hand, she held the usual fan, the _akome oogi_ , with the other one she held the small hand of her three-year-old daughter, a tiny, doll-like child in the formal _kazami_ of her rank, her hair parted in the middle and pulled into a loose ponytail.

The lady was at least half a head taller than Yoshitsune; the stereotypical Heian era beauty with an oval face, powdered ghostly white, her eyebrows shaved and re-painted higher on her forehead, a rosebud mouth, painted vivid red, and the fashionably blackened teeth to accentuate the whiteness of the face. Her eyes, set fairly close to each other, were made up dramatically in black; that and her high cheekbones gave her face a certain fox-like quality that had been highly valued in her time. 

The child was fair-skinned and round-faced like her father and seemed a bit frightened by all those strangers.

The other woman, barely shorter than the lady of the house, wore a male attire – a white _hakama_ over a wide-sleeved green _shukan_ adorned with decorative red, gold and white patches and tassels. She was holding a _kawahori_ fan (the kind that had sticks on one side of the paper and was used by men only) in her hand. Her upswept hairdo matched that of the male warriors, too.

Her attire identified her as Shizuka Gozen: a famous _shirabyōshi_ dancer of her era and Yoshitsune’s legendary mistress. She, too, was of exquisite beauty, even seen with a modern eye, and the looks that she exchanged with Yoshitsune showed that they were devoted to each other.

Tosh couldn’t help but stare at her in awe, thankful for her veiled travelling hat that obscured her behaviour, which, if noticed, would have been considered incredibly rude. Shizuka Gozen, on her own right, was every bit of a legend as Yoshitsune himself. The daughter of a _shirabyōshi_ dancer, who had followed her mother’s footsteps, she was said to have been invited by Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa, along with ninety-nine other dancers, to dance for rain, after the chanting of a hundred Buddhist monks had failed to bring the same result. While the other ninety-nine had reportedly also failed to bring rain, it was said that Shizuka’s arrival – and unique performance – had finally brought the desired effect, which had won her the favour of the cloistered monarch.

It had supposedly been that time when she had first met Yoshitsune, at which occasion they had promptly fallen in love. And while Tosh’s scientific mind could not accept any magical solutions – meaning that the coming of the rain right at Shizuka’s arrival _must_ have been a lucky coincidence – she could understand why Yoshitsune would fall for the young dancer, hard.

Shizuka had to be about sixteen right now, her face and neck powdered white and her mouth painted red, with the usual shaved and re-drawn eyebrows. But the same facial make-up that made the lady of the house look like a puppet from some ghost story brought Shizuka’s youthful beauty to full effect.

Perhaps it _was_ the youth. Or the obvious joy she felt upon seeing her lord again. Or she was simply more beautiful than the main wife. But now that she had seen her, Tosh realized that this was someone she would never be able to compete with. Even without knowing what she knew about the shared fates of Shizuka and Yoshitsune, she would know that these two belonged together.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The reunion between Yoshitsune and his wife was a formal and rather cool one; their marriage, arranged by Yoritomo four years earlier, had been one of convenience, and they had clearly little personal interest in each other. On the other hand, Yoshitsune greeted his little daughter with tender affections, kneeling down and tickling the child until she gurgled and giggled in delight, earning a few indulgent smiles from the gathered household.

“Nobody can sever the bond between parent and child at will,” the samurai left to protect the family commented.

“Nobody indeed,” replied the lady of the house, giving the young mistress of her lord an icy glare. Polygamy might be the norm for people of their rank, but that obviously didn’t mean that she would allow the young, low-ranking concubine to forget her proper place. Shizuka accepted the warning with lowered eyes.

Having been reunited with his child, Yoshitsune reluctantly rose again and looked at his trusted retainer.

“Shirōbyoe, see to it that the former Minister of the State and the Major Counselor and their sons are placed under guard in separate quarters, where they cannot exchange secret messages,” he ordered. “Offer them food, too. They may have been our enemies, but they are still of high birth, and should be treated with respect. More so the Major Counselor, whose daughter I am to marry within the next two days.”

“As you wish, _Hōgan_ ,” the samurai bowed respectfully and hurried off.

The lady of the house gave her husband a piercing look. “You are taking a new wife, my lord?”

Yoshitsune nodded. “The Lady Kyo no Kimi, daughter of the Major Counselor Tokitada, has been offered to me, and I have accepted. Do you have any objections, my lady?”

“Not to her heritage; it is a noble one and will buy you higher reputation at the court,” the lady clarified. “But she is a little old for having her first child in a year’s time. Or do you hope she might still bear you an heir?”

Yoshitsune shrugged. “We shall see. Would you mind arranging quarters for her? Perhaps in the same pavilion where her father and brother will be installed?”

“That would be improper, _Kurō_ ,” the lady said in a slightly scolding tone; that she had used her husband’s nickname made the scolding a very mild one indeed. “I shall arrange quarters for her in the northern pavilion, next to mine.”

 _Where you can keep a close eye on her_ , Tosh thought, but Yoshitsune actually seemed grateful.

“You are gracious,” Sato Gozen,” he said with a respectful bow.

“Nonsense,” his main wife replied. “I am your wife, _Kurō_ ; it is my duty to support you in every manner I can. You are an honourable and respectful husband and a good father, who has always taken proper care of his family. If you think that marrying the daughter of a doomed man would be good for you, I shall not argue with you.”

“I’m not certain that it will be _good_ for me,” Yoshitsune admitted. “However, I feel strongly that this is something I _have_ to do.”

His wife returned the respectful bow. “Then I shall not stand in the way of your destiny. Leave the preparations to me; all will be arranged to your satisfaction.”

Then she glanced at Tosh and the Doctor for the first time, as if she hadn’t even noticed their presence before.

“And who are these?” she asked with a frown.

“Travellers from a far-away province who got caught between the fronts by accident,” Yoshitsune explained; that was the cover story they had agreed to. “The Lady Toshiko and her mentor were mistaken for Taira supporters by one of Munemori’s clerks and had to sit out the battle aboard the imperial vessel, of all places.”

The lady raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Are you certain that they are whom they pretend to be? That they are not, in fact, Taira supporters?”

“I’ve been shown sufficient proof,” Yoshitsune said simply.

His wife inclined her head in a courtly manner. “Very good, then. Have they been given quarters in the _shinden_ itself?

“They have indeed,” Yoshitsune replied. “I entrusted them into the care of Tomoe Gozen.”

That the lady samurai had been chosen to keep an eye on the suspicious guests seemed to reassure the lady. After having discussed a few more technicalities with her husband, she retired into the deeper recesses of the _shinden_ , to return to her own pavilion via one of the roofed walkways.

Yoshitsune turned to his guests apologetically. “I’m afraid I shall be heavily occupied with affairs of the state and with family matters for the rest of the day,” he said. “I would be glad if we could meet one more time, though before you would leave us. Would you stay at least another day? There are still a number of matters that we should discuss.”

Tosh had a fairly good idea what he would have to do on that day. Having prisoners questioned, even executing a few people. Make preparations for his wedding, meeting his new bride, perhaps even have the ceremony and consummate the marriage. Sending out messengers to his brother, trying to lessen the _Shōgun_ ’s ire towards him; or to the Retired Emperor to win his favour… That sort of thing.

She didn’t really want to stay and watch all that. She was ready to make a clean cut and let him go. Everything else would have been just too painful.

“It’s up to him,” she answered quietly, nodding towards the Doctor. “I’m done here and ready to go home.”

Her voice must have been a lot less steady than she’d intended it to be, because the Doctor gave her a quick, compassionate glance.

“I don’t think that another day of delay would do any harm, after we’ve dawdled here for weeks,” he said. “We can use the time to check out the TARDIS thoroughly; prepare her for departure. I might even let you repair that chameleon circuit you’ve been nagging me about all the time,” he added with an almost manic grin, and Tosh couldn’t help but laugh.

“If your time ship truly looks like a garden shed, you can hide it behind the northern pavilion, under the cypresses,” Yoshitsune offered. “Few people go there in this time of the year, and Tomoe will see that even those stay away as long as you’re here.”

The lady samurai nodded. “As you wish, _Hōgan_.”

“What I’d wish for is something entirely different,” Yoshitsune sighed. “Something entirely impossible, or so the Lady Toshiko tells me. I must take my leave now, though; there are urgent matters that demand my attention.”

With that, he bowed and vanished deeper in the _shinden_. The Doctor waited until he was gone; then he turned to Tosh, beaming.

“Ready to call our cab?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Summoning the TARDIS was a rather… anticlimactic event. Since Tomoe had frightened away the members of the household that might, by accident, cross that part of the garden, the wheezing, groaning noise the Doctor’s amazing time ship was making every time she arrived or left somewhere (or some _when_ ) didn’t catch anybody’s attention. She simply materialized under the cypresses, looking like some wooden hut that had been painted a rather ugly shade of blue… and then she was just standing there, unobtrusively.

To say that Tomoe Gozen was disappointed by the sight would have been the understatement of the era.

“ _This_ is your magical ship?” she asked the Doctor. “We’re supposed to travel through time with _this_? This _is_ a garden shed.”

The Doctor grinned at her like a maniac. “Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Gozen. Wait until you’ve seen her from the inside.”

“Erm… Doctor,” Tosh coughed discretely. “Gozen is _not_ a name, you know. It simply means _lady_. Or did you think she and Shizuka were related?”

“I _was_ wandering about that,” the Doctor admitted. “I stand corrected now. Well, then, Miss Sato, you’ve got a TARDIS key… would you do the honours?”

“My pleasure, Doctor,” Tosh pulled out the amulet hanging on its fine chain around her neck and removed the key hidden within it. Before she could have inserted it, though, Tomoe caught her arm.

“Wait… is your real name Sato? The same as _Hōgan_ ’s main wife’s?”

Tosh shook her head. “No; the Doctor meant Satō, my family name. Like most outlanders, he just can’t hear the difference.”

“Your family name is _Satō_?” Tomoe asked in surprise. Tosh nodded. “Then, I think, you should talk to Shirōbyoe before we leave. He’s from Clan Satō, too; maybe you’re one of his late descendants.”

“That would be very strange indeed,” Tosh said. “My mother has believed all her life that she descended from one of the court ladies captured at Dan-no-ura. The Taira believed me to be the Lady Moriko, a _miko_ from Kamo Shrine. And now my father’s family is supposed to come from the other side?”

Tomoe shrugged. “Perhaps; perhaps not. In any case, you should talk to Shirōbyoe.”

“Before _we_ leave,” Tosh added shrewdly; then she grinned at the Doctor. “Does this mean she’s managed to talk you into taking her with us? What happened with your prejudices towards savages?”

The Doctor shrugged and grinned back. “This isn’t the first time I travelled with savages. You should have known Leela; a wildcat was nothing compared with her. She travelled with me in the TARDIS wearing nothing but animal skins.”

Tosh stared at him with widening eyes. “No way!”

The Doctor just grinned like a loon. Finally Tosh regained her composure and laughed.

“Well, at least my people of this era had a more refined fashion sense; although I’ll be the happiest girl on Earth once I’ve shed these impractical things.”

“Well, let us in already, and you can change in no time,” the Doctor reminded her with a grin that almost split his face.

Tosh inserted the key with a trembling hand and slowly, carefully opened the door, as if afraid that the awesome inside of the TARDIS might have vanished during the recent weeks while she had been trekking across half Japan.

It had not. She hadn’t quite gotten a glimpse of the golden light filling the doctor’s ship when she could hear… no, not hear, _feel_ the mental humming of the TARDIS in her head. Something she hadn’t consciously perceived before, but now she realized she’d always felt when aboard.

Considering the telepathic field generated by this incredible piece of semi-sentient technology and how it worked, channelled through the Doctor’s own mind, it shouldn’t have been that surprising, honestly. But accepting the possibility of communicating with an artificial intelligence telepathically and actually _doing_ it were two very different cups of tea.

Moreover, the TARDIS seemed to pick up emotions as well. She seemed to know of Tosh’s loss, or at least _feel_ it in some indefinable way, because her humming took on a certain comforting quality… in the same manner as a mother would murmur comforting nonsense to a weeping child, trying to confirm it that everything would be all right.

The Doctor, infinitely more attuned to the TARDIS than Tosh could ever hope to become, had clearly sensed it, too, because he smiled at his temporary companion.

“You see? I knew she’d like you. I just never thought she’d like you this much.”

“Well, let’s hope she’ll like Tomoe, too,” Tosh said, “or else we’re gonna have a problem.”

“I don’t think there would be any problem,” the Doctor replied, stepping aside a little, so that he would not block her view at the console room.

Tomoe Gozen, the legendary samurai lady, a swordsman worth of a thousand warriors - she who could deal with unbroken horses with superb skill, she who rode unscathed down perilous descents - was know kneeling in the middle of the control room, with tears running down her beautiful face.

“Never in my life have I seen such beauty,” she whispered. “I’ve been to _Kôtekuji Temple_ in Nara, the wonder of our country, and thought nothing could be more magnificent than its Golden Halls. I wept a river of tears when Taira no Shigeshira burned down the Seven Great Temples of Nara and their wonders were lost forever. But this… this is even more beautiful than the corridors of the Western Golden Hall, with their rows of gems on the walls used to be. Or the two-storied _Nikaidô_ , resplendent in vermilion and cinnabar. Or the two pagodas, with their nine rings glittering in the sky…”

She was clearly overwhelmed, even more so than Tosh had been when she first got a glimpse of the inside of the TARDIS. The fact that it was obviously bigger in the inside didn’t seem to bother her; perhaps it hadn’t even registered with her at all. It was the beauty of it that made her lose her balance.

The Doctor gave her a few moments; then he slapped her genially on the back.

“You haven’t seen half of it yet,” he said. “What about I give you the grand tour while Toshiko gets rid of all this clumsy fabric?”

Tomoe found that suggestion acceptable and followed the Doctor out of the console room. Tosh took a different tour, in the direction of the wardrobe, to relieve herself from her Heian period costume.


	8. Searching the Cosmic Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t remember that we’d have ever seen how the equipment of the TARDIS actually worked, so I had to improvise a little. The whole _Encyclopaedia Galactica_ thing is borrowed from Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos” series, because, honestly, no matter how good a memory the Doctor might have, the data ought to be stored _somewhere_.
> 
> This chapter is not yet beta read.

PART SIX – SEARCHING THE COSMIC OCEAN

Half an hour and a long, hot shower later, Tosh returned to the console room, feeling like reborn, happy to be back in her jeans and little red tank top and relieved to have her glasses on again. It wasn’t so that she wouldn’t see without them well enough to move around safely; but she felt more herself, more in control as the world around her moved into sharper focus. God, she loved technical progress!

The Doctor had just finished the preliminary tour for Tomoe, who was staring at Tosh in mild shock.

“Are women of your time always running around like this?” she asked. “You’re barely wearing _anything_!”

“Actually, this is considered fully clothed in my world,” Tosh told her. “There are occasions when we wear a lot less than this.”

Tomoe clearly had a hard time to believe _that_. “Aren’t men trying to harass you for that?”

“Not unless they want to have a bloodied nose,” Tosh replied sharply; then she remembered whom she was talking to and restrained herself. “It’s very different, Tomoe. I’ll tell you about it later; show you pictures, even. I promise.”

“Will I have to war such… shameless clothes too, if I visit your world?” Tomoe asked. It wasn’t clear whether she wanted a positive or a negative answer,

Tosh shrugged and smiled. “In most countries, clothing rules are pretty flexible in my time. As long as you aren’t running around _completely_ naked, people won’t care how many layers you wrap around yourself.”

“Which would be my clue to get changed, too,” the Doctor said brightly. “I’ll let you two ladies do some girl talk. Like discussing where you’d like to go next.”

“Wait!” Tosh stopped him. “What do we have to choose from?”

The Doctor beamed. “Why, I don’t know; it’s _your_ choice. Why don’t you consult the _Encyclopaedia Galactica_?”

And off he waltzed to have a bath of his own and to change back into his usual clothes.

“ _What_ are we supposed to consult?” Tomoe asked uncertainly.

“I haven’t got a clue,” Tosh admitted, “but I bet the TARDIS does… if I could only figure out how to get access to the database.”

“The ship… it is _alive_?” Tomoe couldn’t quite hide her shock. Growing up accustomed to the idea that ghosts may be present around one at any given time was one thing. A live ship was a very different one.

“In a manner that is very different from us being alive,” Tosh replied. “I don’t really understand it myself; I haven’t been with the Doctor too long.”

“How long…?”

“We’ve first met two days before the Battle of Dan-no-ura… back in my own time,” Tosh shrugged. “It’s… complicated with time travel. But if we count the days we’ve actually spent together, it comes up to a month, tops.”

“And you chose to go away with a man you’d just met?” Tomoe asked with a frown.

“I’d known him by reputation,” Tosh said. “I’ve got a… well, a good friend, who’s travelled with him for a while and who vouched for him,” which was a bit of a bending of the truth, but how else could she have put her working relationship with the enigmatic Jack Harkness in words that Tomoe would understand?

She knew Jack had travelled with the Doctor, from the old Torchwood files, but Jack, of course, never spoke about it. Just as he never spoke about his past at all. Period. Perhaps if she got back to her own time, she ought to speak with Jack about the Doctor, at the very least, though.

Tomoe accepted the answer without further questions, coming from a society where a trusted friend vouching for someone had weighted more importantly than anything else. He mind turned back to the immediate problem.

“So, what is this… _this_ thing we are supposed to use?”

“I wish I knew,” Tosh admitted ruefully, but she sat down to the closest thing the TARDIS had to such antiquated things as a computer interface. A previously nonexistent virtual screen popped up in front of her at once.

“Well, this is a beginning,” she murmured. “Now, if it would only let me access this _Encyclopaedia Galactica_ , whatever it might be…”

The screen promptly came alive, showing her an image of the Milky Way galaxy, with its spiral arms and myriads of stars, spinning slowly around its own axe.

“What is this?” Tomoe asked in amazement. “It looks like a precious jewel… or a deadly weapon.”

“This is a picture that shows us where our world exists among the stars,” Tosh explained. “One of those myriad lights is our sun… somewhere _here_.”

She touched the area of the spiral arm where the sun was hiding, invisible among its much brighter siblings. The picture zoomed onto the area, making Tomoe jump back in high alert, and showed a close-up, with the stars now filling the whole surface, without any recognizable pattern. On top of the screen, in large golden letters, it said: REGION 806.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tomoe demanded.

She hated being scared – which was probably a thing she hadn’t experienced often in her life – and since the inscription was in English, she couldn’t read it. Tosh briefly wondered why the TARDIS wouldn’t automatically translate it for her; either she was still on probation as a new companion, or twelfth century Japanese simply lacked the necessary vocabulary for astronomic phenomena.

“It means that the picture is now showing us a smaller part of the whole, with more detail,” Tosh explained, trying to find the words Tomoe would understand. “It’s like… like admiring, say, a beautifully carved temple gate from afar. You can see the whole shape, but very little detail. When you get closer, however, you can examine the tiniest, most perfects cuts shaping the wood; but no longer the whole. Do you understand what I meant?”

Tomoe nodded. “Now that you’ve explained it to me, it actually makes sense. But how does this help us?”

“I believe, this screen works like some sort of a book,” Tosh replied. “You can leaf through the details and take a closer look at whatever seems interesting. We should simply chose a sector – preferably something relatively close to home – and see what kind of worlds we can find there.”

“We can _see_ other worlds? In this magic mirror?” Tomoe was clearly awed by that possibility.

Tosh sighed. Clearing the head of a person originating in the twelfth century from all the superstitions she’d grown up with would be an uphill struggle, she could already see that. But that didn’t mean she’d be willing to give up. Tomoe might not be scientifically trained, but she had a bright mind. She _could_ be taught to see the world as it actually _was_.

“It isn’t a magic mirror,” Tosh corrected. “More like… well, something like a spyglass, just much bigger and better. And yes, I do believe that it can show us other worlds. I just have to figure out how to use it properly.”

“Where should we begin?” Tomoe asked eagerly.

“Our world is in Sector 4616 of this region,” Tosh said, and as if proving her words, the sector in question lit up on the star map. “So, let’s take a look at our immediate neighbourhood and search for planets with similar characteristics.”

“With _what_?”

“Sorry; I meant worlds with air that we might breathe; with water that we might drink; or with temperatures that we might find comfortable.”

“Such words truly exist?” Tomoe seemed dumbfolded.

“So I am told,” Tosh replied. “I haven’t been to any of them before, either. But I’d like to. Would you?”

“Oh, yes!” Tomoe’s eyes were dancing with excitement.

“All right, let’s give it a try, then,” Tosh touched several areas in Earth’s neighbourhood, until she found a sector labelled 4615. “This seems as good as any,” she judged. “Now let’s search for Earth-like planets.”

The screen came alive again, and planet after planed popped up, each with a label consisting of a long string of numbers that presumably defined its position within the sector and the larger region. There was a large, azure blue one, presumably with lots of water; and a striped gas giant much like Jupiter, which made Tosh wonder what exactly the TARDIS understood under _Earth-like_ ; and a ball covered with frozen methane, with a blood-red crack across its middle like a deadly wound – perhaps a string of volcanic eruptions?

“Can we take a closer look?” Tomoe asked, when a decidedly Earth-like water planet with the label 806.4615.4742 emerged.

“We can try,” Tosh touched the screen to stop the slideshow, and the blue-white marbled globe disappeared, making room for a scenic view: that of a primordial mountainside with many cascading waterfalls and a huge white planet loaming on the horizon, filling the night sky.

“That’s what this world looks like?” Tomoe asked in awe.

The question _how_ they were able to see it didn’t even seem to occur to her. It clearly had its advantages when one could explain a lot of strange things away by believing in magic.

Tosh nodded. “I assume it is. Beautiful… but I can see no sign of life, so visiting it perhaps wouldn’t be healthy for us. This is a young world, it seems, that has not brought forth any life of its own yet – perhaps not even a planet, just a moon.”

“But it will later? Bring forth life, I mean?” Tomoe seemed genuinely interested. It made Tosh wonder what she might have become, had she been born to a different time. She certainly was bright enough.

Or what she might yet become still, now that the Doctor had decided to give her a second chance.

“It _might_ ,” Tosh corrected. “Which is another reason to stay away from it. We could accidentally destroy the seeds of life on it; like a careless child tramples down young plants. Let’s see what else is out there.”

She touched the screen again to restart the slide show. And a red-brown coloured planet appeared. The scene view showed rocky brown hills or mountains swimming in molten lave from a nearby, active volcano. But there was also a blue surface in the background – perhaps a sea or a lake – and in the skies, a triad of comet-like blue lights zig-zagged like dragonflies above the water, in tight formation.

“They are like insects,” Tomoe commented, “or hunting falcons.”

“Or airships,” Tosh added. “Or something entirely different. Beings that can live on a world where the air is filled with toxic gases and volcanic ash must be quite deadly themselves.”

“Not the right place to visit,” Tomoe agreed. “Show us something else, then.”

The next planet, labelled 806.4615.5019, was white, veined with lots of blue that, at the very least, indicated the presence of rivers. Unfortunately, the scenic view showed that its surface was entirely covered in ice, and it was snowing, thickly and steadily. A cold, silver-white star – presumably the system’s sun – could barely pierce the thick clouds with its twinkling, pale rays.

“A winter world,” Tosh said, admiring its deadly beauty. “Very pretty, but not very inviting.”

“No,” Tomoe agreed. “Let’s see what the next one looks like.”

806.4515.577 was another white planet, covered in thick clouds. The scenic view showed almost complete night under the blanket of those clouds, the sun just a thin sickle above the dark waters, like an arched doorway into the otherworld. The two women shuddered at the ghostly view and Tosh resumed the slide show without being asked to.

The next planet looked like a ball of alternating white and blue patches, with lost and lots of red between them. Intrigued, Tosh called up the scenic view, and they saw endless blue seas, with unnumbered active volcanoes, and again a large white planet looming on the horizon, just behind the thick clouds.

“A very young world again,” Tosh said. “In a hundred thousand or so years, it may bring forth some sort of life. Right now, the air would be too dense for us to breathe, I think. A shame, too; it looks like a tropic resort.”

The next planet was even younger, its entire surface covered with angry red patches. A closer look revealed the reason: it was a world still very volcanically active, with violent eruptions tearing up its surface again and again.

“It’s still forming itself,” Tosh judged. “Not the right time for a visit; not for a million years or two to come.”

“Perhaps we’ll have more luck with the next one,” Tomoe’s voice was a little doubtful. After what they’d seen so far, she no longer hoped to find a friendly world to visit.

“This one seems promising,” Tosh called up the scenic view of 806.4615.7883, an earth-brown planet marbled with blue and white. The close-up showed them bizarre rock formations on desert sand, with two sickle moons and a pale gold nebula visible on the night sky.

“It’s beautiful,” Tomoe breathed, comforted a little. “What is that golden halo covering half the sky behind the stars, though?”

“It’s called a nebula,” Tosh explained. “Something like fog, or a cloud, just far, far away among the stars. It consists of myriads of stars itself; it’s just so far away that it _looks_ like a cloud to the naked eye. Well, at least this planet seems habitable.”

“No, afraid it isn’t,” the Doctor said, joining them. He was back in his usual trousers and leather jacket and seemed happy about it. “Can you see the stars? They aren’t twinkling; which means the planet has no atmosphere. We can’t visit it without space suits – which we don’t have on board.”

“Why not?” Tosh asked. The Doctor shrugged.

“I never visit unhabitable planets; they’re no fun at all.

“Well, we haven’t found any habitable ones in this sector,” Tosh admitted glumly.

“Nonsense,” the doctor said and touched a symbol on the bottom of the screen. “You must use the advanced search function and ask for inhabited exoplanets with a technical civilization only a little more advanced that twenty-first century Earth.”

“And you’re telling me this _now_?” Tosh scowled accusingly. “You couldn’t have showed me that bloody button _before_ we’d started leafing through half a galactic region, could you?”

The Doctor grinned at her like a maniac.

“And spoil you all the fun? No way! Now, let’s see… here we are. 806.4615.9101 – this one should do the trick.”

He touched another symbol, and data began to scroll down the screen… written in Gallifreyan.

“Doctor!” Tosh protested, frustrated. “This is not really helpful!”

“What?” his mind already analyzing the data, the Doctor looked at her in surprise.

“This is _not_ English,” Tosh stated the glaringly obvious. “Not even Japanese.”

“No, it’s Gallifreyan, of course… oh, you mean you can’t read it, right? Sorry!” the Doctor hurriedly readjusted the screen, and now it was showing the requested data in big, bold English letters.

MODE: CIVILIZATION SUMMARY  
REGION: 806  
WORLD: 806.4615.9101  
Civilization Type: 1.8 L  
“We Who Survived”  
Society code: 2H 11

Star: FOV, spectrum variable  
r = 9,717 kpc 0 = 00°07’5’’  
φ = 210°20’37’’

Planet: sixth, a = 2,4x1013 cm  
M = 7x1018 g R = 2,1x109 cm  
p = 2,7x106 s P = 4,5x107 s

Extraplanetary colonies: none  
Planet age: 1,14x1017 s  
First locally initiated contact: 2.6040x106 s ago  
Receipt first galactic nested code: 2.6040x106 s ago

BIOLOGY: C, N, O, H, S, Se, Cl, Br, H2O, Sp  
Polyaromatic suflonyl halides  
Mobile photo-chronosynthetic autothrophs in weakly  
reducing atmosphere.  
Polytoxic, monochromatic.  
m ~ 3x1012 g t~ 5x1010s  
No genetic prosthetic genomes: ~ 6x107  
(nonredundant bites/ genome ~ 2x1012)

TECHNOLOGY: exponentiating, approaching asymptotic limit

CULTURE: global, non-gregarious, polyspecific (2 genera, 41 species):  
arithmetic poetry  
Prepartum/postpartum: 0,52 (30)  
Individual/communal: 0,73 (14)  
Artistic/technological: 0,81 (18)

Probability of survival (per 100 years): 80 %

“Very impressive,” Tosh said with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Care to tell me what all the geeky stuff does really mean? I can understand the data about spectrum and luminosity and all the other stuff that has anything to do with astrophysics, but what about the rest of it?”

“The rest of it means that we’re dealing here with a remarkably stable global society for their given level of technological development,” the Doctor replied. “A bit xenophobic perhaps, and with a limited number of species… not a particularly dense population, I’d say, which would explain the stability of their society.”

“Would it be a safe place to visit?” Tosh asked.

“Define _safe_ ,” the Doctor shrugged. “Safer than Earth, in any case. The _Encyclopaedia Galactica_ gives the probability of survival for your species as barely forty per cent – that’s half the chance _these_ people seem to have.”

“I meant: would it be safe for _us_ to go there?” Tosh said with the patience of a saint.

“With some cosmetic changes and the right dress code… yep, it should be,” the Doctor answered, grinning.

Tosh became extremely suspicious at that. “ _What_ kind of changes?”

“Oh, nothing beyond the fact that these people are all completely bald and walk around naked, wearing only elaborate body painting,” the Doctor explained with a straight face.

Tomoe was shocked by hearing that, but Tosh just shook her head.

“You need a better poker face if you want to shock _me_ , Doctor,” she said. “My boss tells me the most outrageous things all day; by now I’ve learned to notice when people are trying to pull my leg. So, what kind of people do really live down there?”

“I honestly have no idea,” the Doctor admitted. “Never been there before – so why don’t we find out?” he glanced at Tomoe. “Don’t you wish to put on something more… practical, too? We have an extensive wardrobe you may change from.”

Tomoe shook her head. “I still have to return to the house… and I don’t want _Hōgan_ to realize that I’m about to slip away.”

“You haven’t told him that you’re leaving?” Tosh frowned.

“No, and I don’t intend to do so,” Tomoe shrugged. “He won’t let me go; I’m not oath-bound to him, just caught by a life debt. I’ve fought for him in several battles and consider that debt paid; now I want to be free again.”

“Why do you believe he won’t let you go?” Tosh asked.

“I know he would not,” Tomoe replied grimly. “He knows that my loyalty will always belong to my one true lord, Kiso no Yoshinaga, who died because of him and his cursed brother, the _Shōgun_. I’ve tried to kill him, and he spared me – but he doesn’t trust me. He never will, and if he did, he’d make a mistake. He’d have me killed, just so that he can be sure about me. That I won’t turn against him one day.”

“So you’re practically fleeing with us?” the Doctor realized.

Tomoe nodded. “I wish _Hōgan_ no ill fate… but sooner or later, one of us would be forced to kill the other one; more so if the _Shōgun_ learned of my presence in _Hōgan_ ’s household… and Yoshitsune won’t be able to afford leaving me alive. And since I’m not oath-bound to him, it cannot be expected from me to die for him.”

“And yet you fought on his side in several battles as you say,” the Doctor said.

“I fought against the Taira, the enemies of my Lord Kiso,” Tomoe corrected. “But now that the Taira are destroyed, I no longer have a goal in my life. My old life is over; now I want to begin a new one; one that is free of the burdens and obligations of the past,” she glanced at Tosh. “Will you tell him about my plans of escape?”

Tosh shook her head. “I’m not oath-bound to him, either. And I agree that your continued presence would be dangerous for him. This is the best solution for everyone involved – I just never expected the reason for your disappearance from the legends would be this… unusual.”

“Fantastic!” the Doctor rubbed his hands in glee. “Now that we have a destination and an agreement, we could sit out the rest of our time here, wearing sensible clothes again and sleeping in a proper bed. Oh, how I love civilization!”

“We have promised Yoshitsune to meet him tomorrow, before we leave,” Tosh reminded him.

“Yep, that we have; but perhaps he can come out to us to meet us here, can’t he?” the Doctor asked. “We can always wipe his memory about the TARDIS, and nobody could eavesdrop on us _here_.”

“No,” Tosh said. “He’s the master of the house. He can’t – and won’t – meet his guests in a garden shed.”

“Hey!” the Doctor protested. “What is this with the pejorative names again?”

Tosh rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. For the rest of the household, this _is_ a garden shed, assuming they notice its presence at all. It would be beneath Yoshitsune’s dignity to come here, plain and simple.”

“You could meet him in the _tsuridono_ ,” Tomoe suggested. “You will be able to talk to him undisturbed there… more so if the path leading there will be guarded.”

“Can you arrange it?” Tosh asked.

Tomoe nodded. “I’ll guard the path myself.”

“Good,” Tosh said. “That will probably be the best solution. Even if I have to put on those dreadful clothes again.”


	9. The Kitsune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genkurō, the fox spirit, is a character from the kabuki play “Yoshitsune and the Thousand Cherry Trees”, which actually takes place in 1186, also a year later than this story. But considering how loosely _that_ play deals with historic facts, I thought I could afford a little poetic licence myself, introducing the amazing creature to its master somewhat earlier. The death of his elders (parents in the original) has happened in 786, according to the play.
> 
> This chapter is not yet beta read.

**PART EIGHT – THE _KITSUNE_**

It was a visibly distressed Yoshitsune who came to the fishing pavilion on the next evening to speak his farewells to Tosh and the Doctor, flanked by Tomoe and Benkei.

“Today, I allowed the former State Minister Munemori to see his eight-year-old son for one last time,” he told them moodily. “It was a heart-rending farewell; I had to order the boy’s execution right thereafter. When it was done, his nurse came to me, barefooted, begging for the child’s severed head, so that she could pray for him, for the life that would come.”

“Did you give it to her?” Tosh asked, trying very hard _not_ to imagine that scene, even though it was a famous one, preserved for future generations in the _Heike monogatari_.

Yoshitsune shrugged; his eyes were suspiciously wet.

“I am a father myself; I could imagine how that faithful lady must have felt, even though she wasn’t the boy’s birth-mother. It was most desirable that she should pray for him.”

“Would your brother not demand the head to be presented him?” Tosh asked. Yoshitsune shrugged again.

“The head of an eight-year-old is not a trophy that His Lordship would find desirable, as long as he can be certain that the boy is dead,” he sighed. “I know I must walk my path to the bitter end, but there are things I truly hate to do; like tearing a child away from the breast of his nurse and send him to his death, just because his father was our enemy,” he glanced at Tosh. “I wonder whether my children, too, will end that way.”

“Don’t ask me questions like that,” Tosh whispered, “and I won’t lie to you.”

“But you said they’ll survive,” Yoshitsune reminded her.

“ _One_ of them would,” Tosh replied evasively. Yoshitsune frowned.

“But I only _have_ one child,” he pointed out.

“You only have one _now_ ,” Tosh corrected. Yoshitsune’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“I’ll have more, in the few years left to me?” Tosh nodded. “Which one will live, then?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Tosh admitted. “I swear I never learned the name. But you can rest assured that your line won’t die with you.”

“Well, at least _that_ is something,” Yoshitsune said philosophically. “I’d have liked to see them grow up, but as you told me, I’ll have to give up that hope to save the future. So be it. I won’t even bother you to tell me more about that future, Lady Toshiko. I’ve come to understand that the less I know about it, the easier it will be for me to do the right thing.”

“A wise decision, even if it comes a little late,” the Doctor commented sarcastically. “But if you don’t want to learn more, why are we still here?”

Instead of answering his question, Yoshitsune gave Tomoe a signal, and she summoned the samurai that had been left behind to protect house and family.

“Satō Shirōbyoe-no-jo Tadanobu is one of my most trusted retainers,” Yoshitsune introduced him. “He comes from a high-ranking samurai family that has served mine for a long time. He and his brother Tsuginobu have been with me since I left the house of Fujiwara no Hidehira, four years ago, to join my brothers in the war against the Taira. I owe him a life debt, for his brother died for me in the Battle of Yashima; he took an arrow meant of me, shielding me with his own body.”

“I told you back then, _Hōgan_ , and I’m telling you again: we’d reckon the loss of life for such a master as no more important than a dewdrop or a speck of dust,” the samurai, a big, handsome young fellow, replied with a respectful bow before taking a seat.

“Having commanded the love and loyalty of such brave and honourable warriors is more than any master could hope for,” Yoshitsune returned. “However, I wish to discuss some family matters with you, Tadanobu. Have your, or has your brother ever had any indulgences with the Lady Moriko of Kamo Shrine?”

The question seemed to embarrass the samurai a great deal. “Why would you wish to know about our caprices, _Hōgan_?”

“Normally, I would not,” Yoshitsune admitted readily; as a rule, he couldn’t care less with whom his retainers warmed their beds. “But there is a strange mystery to solve; here we have the Lady Toshiko, who looks like the very image of the _miko_ of Kamo Shrine; and the name of her family is apparently _Satō_ – the same as yours. So I ask you again, Shirōbyoe – have either of you ever indulged himself with the Lady Moriko?”

“It was Tsuginobu,” the samurai admitted, “but the child she borne him is still only two years old, _Hōgan_ ; and it is a son. There is no way this woman here could be related to us.”

“And yet she is,” Yoshitsune said; “or she will be, however far in the future,” he looked at Tosh and smiled, for the first time since his arrival. “It seems the family legend wasn’t entirely false, after all. You _have_ descended from a woman who supported the Taira – just not on your mother’s side.”

“It seems so,” Tosh agreed. “I guess Mum will be terribly disappointed.”

“Are you disappointed?” Yoshitsune asked.

Tosh shook her head. “No; I never really believed the family legend myself.”

“Well,” the Doctor said, giving the samurai a hard look,” there may be a chance that Toshiko is indeed a descendant of the Satō Clan, but she’s most certainly _not_ descended from _you_. Because there’s no way that _you_ would be a member of the Satō Clan; you’re not even human, are you?”

Everyone turned to Satō Tadanobu in shock; Benkei even gripped the hilt of his sword. The handsome young warrior smiled, shook himself – and changed, becoming something like a man-sized fox with multiple tails, standing on its hind legs.

“You are right,” he said, his voice considerably higher-pitched than before. “It was silly of me to hope to fool the eyes of a Time Lord. Are you the one they call the Doctor?”

“I’m the only one left,” the Doctor answered bitterly. “The others are all dead, our home planet gone. So it surprises me a little that you’ve obviously heard about us… about me. Who – or _what_ – are you?”

“It’s a _kitsune_ ,” Benkei said, obviously impressed. “A fox spirit, and obviously an old and powerful one, by the number of its tails.”

The alien – because what else could it have been – coughed apologetically.

“Actually, this is the disguise my people have been wearing, ever since our ancestors have crash-landed with their ship on earth, about a thousand years ago,” it corrected.

“A _zenko_ ,” Benkei murmured in awe. “A celestial fox who’s descended from the stars! They say, a fox only grows additional tails when it’s already lived a hundred years… and this one already has eight! It must be close to acquiring its ninth tail, as its fur is almost entirely gold.”

The creature looked beautiful and exotic indeed, with its narrow face, close-set dark eyes and high cheekbones... a lot like an ordinary fox, and yet profoundly different. The Doctor looked at it with a frown.

“In all my nine hundred years of travelling through space and time, I’ve never seen a species like yours,” he said. “And yet these people seem to know a lot about your.”

“We haven’t ventured into this galaxy too often,” the alien replied with a shrug, “or so my elders told me. Our pack was one of the adventurers and explorers. They’ve accepted a long-term mission to map foreign galaxies with he help of an interdimensional ship. I was born during transit, which is why I occasionally flicker out of this dimension,” it demonstrated its words by becoming transparent briefly, then solidifying again.” It’s quite annoying when it happens spontaneously; but I have it under control by now.”

“After a millennium, it is to be expected,” the Doctor commented. “Is your species generally this long-living?”

The alien grinned, which was an… interesting expression on its vulpine face. “No; back on the homeworld, we rarely live longer than four hundred earth years. Interdimensional travel leads to unexpected mutations, though,” it nodded, wiggling its many tails.

“You mean you don’t have so many in your original form?” Tosh asked curiously. Like many Japanese children, she’d grown up with fox tales but never expected to actually see a _kitsune_ with her own eyes, considering them a mere myth.

“Originally, we only supposed to have one,” the alien explained readily enough. “According to my elders, one’s tail is one’s joy and pride, and it’s expected that we take good care of it… which isn’t easy on this planet, let me tell you. Such a backward place, it doesn’t even have the basic cosmetic plants growing on it!

It cleaned a paw with the claws of the other one in a fastidious manner that reminded more of a cat than of a fox and made Tosh smile. Yoshitsune, however, had other concerns.

“Does that mean that my faithful retainer Tadanobu has never truly existed?” he asked, visibly shaken by that thought.

“Oh, no,” the alien laughed. “He’s very real, and is currently marching with the troops of your brother Noriyori towards Heian-kyō.”

“Why would you take on his shape, then?” Yoshitsune asked.

The alien sighed. “I hoped to gain access to the Imperial Palace as your retainer.”

“Why?” Yoshitsune’s dark, intelligent eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wanted to lay hands on the Hatsune Drum,” the alien confessed. “I’ve been longing for my elders for four hundred years – the Emperor Kammu has slain them and crafted the drum of their skins as part of a ritual to pray for rain. But their spirits still inhabit the drum.”

“What would you do with the drum, could you really lay hands on it?” the Doctor asked.

“I just… I just want to _talk_ to them,” the alien explained in sorrow. “All the elders who landed here are dead, and no whelps were born since the landing. I’m the only one left. It gets… it gets lonely sometimes.”

“I’m sure it does,” if anyone, the Doctor could understand what being the last of one’s kind would mean. “Do you actually know where your people have come?”

“If you mean whether I could give you the coordinates, the answer is yes,” the alien replied. “My elders had more than six hundred years to teach me in all the necessary skills to get home again; and they’ve taught me well. But what good would it do to me? I haven’t got a ship that could take me back to the homeworld of my people.”

“But _I have_ ,” the Doctor said. “I can take you back to your home planet, if you give me the right direction.”

Even under its smooth golden fur, the alien visibly paled. “You would do it? But why?”

“I’ll be glad to help someone stranded on an alien world to get home,” the Doctor said simply. “At least you still _have_ a homeworld… hopefully.”

The alien sketched an elegant bow. “Then I gratefully accept.”

“Wait a moment!” Yoshitsune interrupted. “Are you planning to take him away from this world? To travel with him between the stars in heaven?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Basically… yep, I do.”

“And then you’d return here?” Yoshitsune inquired.

“Sure,” the Doctor said with another shrug. “I must take Toshiko home, sooner or later.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Yoshitsune declared.

The Time Lord frowned. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Tosh intervened. “We could return him to the same moment he left, couldn’t we?”

“Could we?” the Doctor arched a sarcastic eyebrow. “May I remind you how we ended up here?”

“That was _before_ we repaired your ship,” Tosh countered. “We _can_ do this, Doctor… and considering what awaits him, don’t you think he deserves to see the stars, before… before everything comes to an abrupt and horrible end?”

The Doctor shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly. I told you that getting involved with him was a mistake.”

Tosh glared at him defiantly. “I see no mistake in it.”

“Wait!” the alien interrupted their argument. “Please, Doctor; _Hōgan_ has been very good to me, even if he didn’t know who – or _what_ – I truly was. If what the Lady Toshiko knows is true, this is his last chance to know anything else but war and bloodshed. His only chance to see the wonders of the universe. I’d very much like to give him that chance. He deserves it.”

“What, exactly, has he done to deserve it?” the Doctor asked angrily. “He’s like any other man of his time: obsessed with power and bent to kill everyone in his way.”

“He is a dutiful brother and a good leader of his people whose love and loyalty he commands; and he richly deserves it,” the alien returned sharply. “He commands mine, too. So, if he cannot come with us, I shall not go, either.”

“You’d give up your only chance to get home?” Yoshitsune asked, deeply moved by the _kitsune_ ’s declaration.

The alien bowed to him. “You always keep your promises, my lord. You are faithful to your subjects; you deserve no less.”

The Doctor looked from the alien to the warlord and then to Tosh, gnawing his lower lip in frustration. Sure, he could just deny the request, grab Tosh and leave… but that wouldn’t promise a delightful journey afterwards. He’d already realized how stubborn she could be; and she’d obviously taken a shine to her people’s tragic hero.

Besides, could he doom the vulpine alien to an exile of another millennium or two on a planet where there were no longer any of its kind? Could he do that to another lonely stranger, just because he didn’t like Yoshitsune and his way of life?

“All right,” he finally said; when Tosh squealed in delight, he raised a warning hand. “ _One_ trip; there and back again. Nothing more.”

Yoshitsune inclined his head in gratitude. “That is all I ask.”

“My lord, are you truly planning to go with these… these _people_?” the warrior monk asked in concern. “You hardly even know them; and the only one you thought you’d know turns out not to be whom you believed him to be… is this wise?”

“Perhaps it is not,” Yoshitsune allowed. “But for the first and most likely last time in my life, I can go on an adventure that is mine; and mine alone. If the Lady Toshiko is right, my years will be cut short anyway. I wish to use this one chance to see what is beyond the skies.”

“But what will become of your household, of your family and retainers while you are gone?” Benkei protested.

Tosh gave the faithful giant a gentle smile. “Nothing. You won’t even know he’s gone. We’ll return him to the exact moment when the battle was won… whatever happened since then, will never happen, and you won’t remember having met any of us, since it never happened.”

The legendary monk shook his head in confusion. Clearly, the intricacies of time travel went well beyond the limits of his comprehension. Yoshitsune, however, seemed intrigued.

“You can truly do that?” he asked. “I could travel with your for years and return in the same moment I left, and no-one would know?”

“If the TARDIS behaves,” Tosh replied lightly. “That is what _I am_ doing right now.”

“ _One_ trip,” the Doctor repeated with emphasis. “We get our alien friend home, turn around and come right back. That’s all.”

“Fair enough,” the _kitsune_ replied.

“By the way,” the Doctor said. “Do you actually _have_ a name? In the long run, calling you ‘our alien friend’ might become a little bothersome.”

The _kitsune_ shrugged. “Our names change with our alliances. We usually wear the name gifted upon us by our pack leader. As it is,” he added, glancing at Yoshitsune, “my lord has not named me yet.”

“Am I supposed to name you?” Yoshitsune asked in surprise.

The _kitsune_ nodded. “I no longer have a pack, but I’ve served you for half a year by now, in all the major battles you have fought. You are my lord now, which is the closest thing to a pack leader that I can find.”

Yoshitsune considered the argument for a moment; then he nodded in agreement.

“It seems only proper,” he said. “So be it, then. For your faithful services, past and future, I award you with my own name. From now on, you’ll be called Genkurō, Ninth Son of the Minamoto.”

“This is a great honour, my lord,” the _kitsune_ said, “more than I deserve. But it is gratefully accepted nonetheless,” he bowed to Yoshitsune in the most ceremonial manner ever seen in the Heian court; then he turned to the Doctor brightly. “Well? Now that it’s been taken care of, can we go? I’ve waited a thousand years to get home, you know.”

The Doctor still didn’t seem entirely happy with the arrangement.

“You are aware of the fact, of course, that we could seriously contaminate the timeline, should we fail to bring him back in the right moment?” he warned.

“We’ll have to be really careful with the navigation, then,” Tosh replied with a shrug.

The Doctor shook his head in exasperation. “I still can’t understand what you see in him.”

“No,” Tosh answered softly. “No, I don’t think you can.”

“You might have bought him a short delay, but ultimately, you’ll have to allow him to return to his fate,” the Doctor pointed out.

“I know,” Tosh replied with a sad little smile. “But giving him up is still better than not having had him at all. Even if I’ll have to send him to his inevitable death.”

“You do realize, of course, that letting him go will be even more difficult after he’s travelled with us for a while,” the Doctor warned her. 

Tosh nodded. “I know. But it will be worth it. _He_ will be worth it.”

“I hope for your sake that you’re right,” the Doctor said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
An hour or so later everyone was ready to leave… it wasn’t so as if either of them would have a lot to pack. Only Yoshitsune came with a moderately large chest, containing clothes, weapons and his full warrior general regalia. They were supposed to drop him off right after the battle again, so he’d need the proper attire.

To say that he was shocked to see Tomoe enter the TARDIS, clad in a grossly simplified version of her usual attire and wearing no make-up at all, would have been put mildly.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he demanded.

“I’m leaving your service, the only way my personal honour would allow,” Tomoe answered simply.

Yoshitsune looked at Tosh in suspicion. “You knew about this?”

“Not from the beginning, no,” Tosh replied. “She and the Doctor plotted the whole thing behind my back, too. I only learned about their plans yesterday.”

“You still could have told me,” Yoshitsune said petulantly. “You promised…”

“I promised to tell you the truth, and I have,” Tosh interrupted. “I never promised to tell you _everything_. Besides, this was not _my_ secret to share. My tales tell me that Tomoe Gozen vanished from sight after the death of Lord Kiso, and this is as good a way to make that true as any other.”

Yoshitsune turned back to Tomoe. “You won’t be coming back with us, then?”

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t got anything – or any _one_ – to come back to. And my life debt to you I have already paid twofold.”

“That is certainly true,” Yoshitsune was fair enough to admit the truth. “Where are you going, then?”

“I don’t know,” Tomoe admitted. “Not yet. To some place or time calmer and less unsteady than this one, I guess. To begin a new life.”

Yoshitsune gave her new look a thorough once-over. “Are these changes part of that new life of yours?”

Tomoe nodded. “They are; and I welcome them.” And she turned around and left them alone.

“They are… unsettling,” Yoshitsune said, and Tosh couldn’t really blame him for that summary judgement. After all, less than two hundred years before her own time, it had been unthinkable for a Japanese woman to leave the house without being heavily made up. She knew that she, too, was barely recognizable for him, in the strange attire she was wearing and with barely any make-up at all.

“I haven’t changed, my lord,” she said with a smile. “This, what you’re seeing now, is the real _me_. The one I always used to be.”

“It will need some getting used to,” Yoshitsune admitted, clearly trying very hard to reconcile her current appearance with the doll-like woman he’d met on the battle site… and took to his bed afterwards. Tosh couldn’t tell just yet whether the changes truly bothered him or not.

“You will get used to my true self, too,” she said. “You are in _my_ world now, my lord; it is a very different one, I admit, but you will learn your way around its pitfalls. You aren’t considered one of the greatest tactical minds of our people’s history without a reason.”

Yoshitsune accepted the compliment without false honesty; he was well aware of his own worth. 

“Since we’re talking about changes anyway, perhaps you should stop calling me ‘my lord’, though,” he said instead. “It is no longer appropriate, I think. Not in your world.”

“What shall I call you then?” Tosh asked.

Yoshitsune shrugged. “You can always call me _Kurō_.”

“But that’s what your _wife_ calls you!” Tosh protested.

Yoshitsune nodded. “My wife, my brothers and everyone close to me whom I consider my equal, yes. It is a name that expresses intimacy as well as acknowledging my status within the family.”

“It is also a name you’ve gifted upon our _kitsune_ friend, though,” Tosh pointed out. “It might lead to misunderstandings if I started to use it for both of you.”

Yoshitsune laughed. “No-one would ever mistake a retainer awarded with his master’s name for his faithful service for the master himself. But since in your time such fine distinctions have apparently been forgotten, you can use my _imei_ instead.”

“I can try,” Tosh grinned, “even if it is ungodly long.”

That earned her a confused look. “It is no longer than any other warrior’s name.”

“I know,” Tosh said. “But no-one in my time wears names like that. Although _Yoshi_ has become a popular name; I used to know several boys who were called that.”

“It is a good name,” Yoshitsune agreed. “It means justice, morality and honour – all very desirable values. It is also related to the name of my family, which is why so many of us have included it in their names. It pleases me to hear that even in your time, people appreciate its meaning.”

“So, would you terribly mind being called simply Yoshi while you’re travelling with us?” Tosh asked. “I only ask because the Doctor seems to have taken a liking to it.”

“Yes,” Yoshitsune replied simply, “I would mind. Changing one’s name by an outsider is a great humiliation and besmirching one’s honour.”

That answer made Tosh’s breath stuck in her breast, as she knew all too well that the Kamakura _Shōgun_ would change Yoshitsune’s name in his absence, as part of disgracing him in the eyes of their people. Yoshitsune caught her reaction and gave her a questioning look.

“What?” he asked warily.

Tosh shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” his eyes flashed in anger. “You promised me the truth!”

“I never promised you _everything_ ,” Tosh replied tiredly. “I think we’ve just had this conversation.”

Yoshitsune didn’t answer at once. He was an intelligent man, capable of filling out the gaps in the picture she wasn’t willing to describe her in its entirety. He only needed a few minutes to realize what her stubborn silence meant.

“I never thought that my brother would go so far,” he murmured, visibly shaken.

“He won’t reach the goal he would aim at with this action,” Tosh said comfortingly. “Even his most faithful followers would honour you for your deeds. And people will side with you in their hearts, down to my own time.”

“That is cold comfort when one’s whole life is about to be shattered to pieces,” Yoshitsune said.

“I know it is,” Tosh sighed. “But I’m afraid it’s not something we’d be allowed to change. So, tell me the truth, too: why _are_ you here? I thought you’ve reconciled yourself with the fate awaiting you. And I was ready to let you go.”

“But I was not ready to let _you_ go,” Yoshitsune replied, stepping closer and laying a questioning hand upon her shoulder. “You are… you are like no-one I’ve ever met before. What we had was something… something precious. I could not give that up; not yet. In a day or two, I’d be lying with my new wife, following the path the gods laid out for me. I have accepted _that_. But before I’d bow to my fate, I wanted to stay with you, just a little longer.”

“What about Shizuka?” Tosh asked. “She loves you, you know.”

“And I love her and will gratefully return into her arms,” Yoshitsune answered honestly. “I knew from the beginning that I shall lose you, soon. All I wanted was to buy a little more time.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tosh hugged herself in misery. “You have only made it harder for us both to let go.” 

Yoshitsune nodded soberly. “I know. But at least the time that we shall have until _then_ will be ours alone. Without my household spying on us and without my obligations keeping me away from you,” he raised her chin with a gentle hand. “Are you willing to give me this short time?”

“You’re not playing fair,” Tosh complained, moving into his arms like a lost wanderer who’d finally found the way home.

“Not when I need something – or _someone_ – badly enough,” he admitted; then he added, with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Although you’ll have to teach me how to divest you of these strange clothes.”

“That can be arranged,” Tosh kissed him briefly. “But hold the thought for a little longer. We are expected back in the console room. The Doctor wants to discuss travel plans with us.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
“All right, people,” the Doctor said, rubbing his hands, “this is the plan. First, we take our friend the _kitsune_ home. Then we take our friend Yoshi home. _Then_ we go and visit that inhabited exoplanet Toshiko and Miss Tomoe have found for us. Any questions?”

“I’d thank you if you did not maim my name,” Yoshitsune said stiffly.

The Doctor gave him a darkly amused look. “You want to tell me how to call you while you’re travelling by _my_ amazing time ship, out of my courtesy? Aren’t you making yourself a bit too important, little man?”

“Names _are_ important,” Yoshitsune replied coldly. “I never treated you with anything but respect, Doctor. You might not _like_ me; but that doesn’t give you the right to deny me the respect that I deserve.”

“He is right,” the _kitsune_ said quietly. “You have no authority to change his name without his consent, Doctor; only his overlord is entitled to do that.”

The Doctor shook his head in exasperation. “What is it with you people and all those names and titles? Is it some weird sort of fetish?”

“No,” Yoshitsune said. “Our names and titles determine who we _are_. You want to be called the Doctor, which, frankly, says me nothing. Still, I give you the courtesy to call you by the name you chose for yourself. I expect the same courtesy from you.”

“Doctor,” Tomoe intervened quietly, “if I were you, I would give in… unless you want to throw him out of your ship before we leave. This is not a matter in which he would back off; and you can’t expect him to do so.”

The Doctor glared at her unhappily. “Fine. But I reserve the right to change my mind,” he looked around. “Any other objections? Do we have a consensus concerning the flight plan?”

“I’d have a request,” the _kitsune_ said. “Could we, you know, take the scenic route? To actually _see_ something of deep space before we arrive? Most of us would never get another chance to see the stars.”

“Sure we can,” the Doctor seemed electrified with excitement again. “The TARDIS is well capable of travelling in normal space – I just rarely do it, because it is, frankly, dull and slow.”

“For you perhaps, after nine hundred years of time and space travel,” Tosh pointed out. “It will be all brand new to _us_.”

“Far be from me to stay in the way of amateur exploration,” the Doctor grinned. “Care to help me laying the course in?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Tosh walked around the console. “Let’s hope that the short-range guidance system won’t act up again.”

“Hey, we’ve just repaired it before the battle,” the Doctor ran around the central console, pulling handles and pushing buttons. “Is the course lain in?”

“As far as I can tell it… yes, it is,” Tosh checked the coordinates again. “Next stop: the _kitsune_ homeworld… hey, won’t it be a little far till the Orion Nebula?”

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor said. “We’ll make jumps through interstellar space; only fall out of transit in places that are pretty or interesting. Now, are we ready to go?”

“Ready and willing,” Tosh replied. “Can I hit the Start button now?”

The Doctor grinned like a loon. “Be my guest.”

Their twelfth-century guests watched in awe as the energy within the central column began to pump in earnest, and with a wheezing sound, the TARDIS dematerialized in the garden of Horikawa Mansion, to take on shape again somewhere among the stars of deep space.


	10. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus they come to full circle. *g* 
> 
> The Taira memorial service is mostly made up on the basis of what can be seen in the second episode of Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos” series.
> 
> This chapter is not yet beta read.

**PART NINE – FULL CIRCLE**

“That was fast!” the _kitsune_ commented when the wheezing and groaning noise stopped and the TARDIS ceased shaking. “Where are we exactly?”

The Doctor grinned at him. “I don’t know. Why don’t we take a look?”

“External sensors are coming up in a sec,” Tosh said, which earned her a look of pure admiration from the Doctor.

“ _External sensors_ ,” the Time Lord repeated as if tasting each word… and liking the taste. “Why haven’t I come up with a name like that?”

“I told you: you ought to watch Star Trek,” Tosh replied, pulling up a large virtual screen; it amazed her how co-operative the TARDIS could be on a good day. “The best technobabble ever.”

“Why would I want to learn technobabble?” the Doctor frowned, ignoring the identical blank looks their twelfth-century passengers were giving them. 

Tosh shrugged. “Technobabble is good for the soul; or so my boss likes to say,” she fine tuned the scanners to get a better view.

“Your boss must be a remarkable human specimen,” the Doctor commented, not without sarcasm.

Tosh smiled. “He has his moments,” and made a mental note to nag Jack about his travels with the Doctor. These two must have clashed spectacularly, cloistered within the TARDIS for longer stretches of time. 

Then she switched on the screen. “Here we are, ladies and gentlemen… and beings between those two extremes,” she added Jack’s overused joke.

Two samurai, a _kitsune_ and a Time Lord stared at the picture offered them about their immediate surroundings with open-mouthed shock.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Yoshitsune finally said, “but _this_ doesn’t look like we’d be travelling among the stars. In fact, it looks suspiciously like…”

“… like the battle site of Dan-no-ura,” Tomoe finished for him, “although I cannot remember the shrine with the red gate being there.” 

“That is because it wasn’t there in your time, not yet,” Tosh said. “This is Akama Shrine, where Child Emperor Antoku has been entombed.”

“That is highly unlikely,” Yoshitsune said. “You of all people should know it; you’ve witnessed with your own eyes how he had drowned.”

“It isn’t really a tomb,” Tosh allowed. “It’s a _shrine_. After Antoku’s drowning, in order to mourn his body and to placate any restless spirits, the Amidaji Temple was built. Later Antoku was enshrined at Kurume-Suitengū in Fukuoka, and he came to be worshipped as the god Mizu-no-kami there, the god of easy delivery. When Shinto became the state religion, the Amidaji Temple was abandoned and Akama Shrine was established, right here, to celebrate Antoku.”

“Oh,” the Doctor’s eyes twinkled with recognition. “Do you think the TARDIS has brought us to the very time and place where we originally planned to come… before we accidentally ended up in the middle of the battle?”

Tosh gave the screen a good, hard look. “Yes, I think so. Based on the clothing of these people out there, we’re back in our own time. I don’t understand it; we _have_ repaired the short-range guidance system, haven’t we?”

“I don’t think it was another malfunction,” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “I believe the TARDIS wanted to correct her previous mistake and brought us to our original destination.”

“But why would she do that?” Tosh wandered.

The Doctor shrugged. “I told you; she likes you.”

“This ship of yours… she has a will of her own?” the _kitsune_ asked with unmistakable approval.

The Doctor grinned. “It certainly seems so from time to time. But in the end, she always gets me where I need to go.”

“An interesting distinction,” the _kitsune_ said. “Where you _need_ to go… not necessarily where you _want_ to go, right?”

“Not always,” the Doctor admitted.

Yoshitsune watched the screen with great interest.

“This is your world then?” he asked. “The time in which you ordinarily live?”

Tosh nodded. “It seems that we’re back, yeah.”

“I want to see it,” Yoshitsune said.

“So do I,” Tomoe supported him. “Perhaps I will find it in me to live here, in this time. I would at least know _someone_ in this era,” she added, glancing in Tosh’s direction.

“And I’d like to see my mother as originally intended, when we’re here already,” Tosh said. “Could we make a short stop, Doctor, please?”

The Doctor laughed, hugged her and kissed the top of her head, earning a jealous scowl from Yoshitsune, which he blithely ignored.

“That was what I promised you, wasn’t it?” he replied. “But how do you intend to find your mother? There’s quite a crowd out there.”

“Well, you’re the alien with the highly advanced technology here,” Tosh returned. “Don’t you have something like a life-sign detector on board?”

The Doctor beamed at her with excitement.

“A life-sign detector? Fantastic! I _love_ this technobabble of yours!”

“Well, do you have it or not?” Tosh demanded.

“Erm… not really, but I can tune my sonic screwdriver to search for DNA closely related to yours,” the Doctor was already at it. Then he glanced at their twelfth-century passengers. “Don’t you think you should do something to blend in a little better?”

“Actually, this is one of the few occasions when Tomoe and Yoshitsune won’t draw any undue attention, even if they were wearing their own clothes,” Tosh grinned. “Unless, of course, they would want to put on their full warrior regalia, _including_ the Minamoto badges. _That_ would be considered grossly disrespectful.”

“I’d like to wear something simpler, though,” Tomoe said. “Your fashion is not as beautiful as ours used to be, but a great deal more comfortable.”

“Come with me to the wardrobe, and we’ll find something for you to wear – for all of you,” Tosh promised. “What about you, Doctor? Should I select something for you as well?”

“Nah,” the Doctor replied absent-mindedly, still working on his sonic screwdriver. “I’ll be happy to go as an ignorant tourist; the way I am.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Less than an hour later all five of them were standing on the shore of the battle site, clad in modern-era kimonos matching the occasion – with the exception of the Doctor who had remained in his everyday gear. Yoshitsune examined his own memorial, a bronze statue presenting a fierce warrior general in full battle regalia, with tolerant amusement.

“ _That_ is supposed to be me?”

“That is supposed to be you, performing your famous leap to avoid Taira no Noritsune at the height of the battle,” Tosh grinned. “Do you have any objections against your portrayal? It’s quite dashing and heroic, I’d say.”

“It’s grossly exaggerated,” Yoshitsune replied, shaking his head. “Had I been half this big and strong, I wouldn’t _have_ to avoid Noritsune. I could have wrestled him down and taken his head. And had I been half this good-looking, Fujiwara no Hidehira would have married off one of his daughters to me, and I’d be sitting in the imperial court right now.”

Tosh grinned at him. Sure, he was a lot less impressive than his memorial; a small man in a modern-era black kimono, with the anachronistic, upswept samurai hairdo, but he was still the living legend of countless generations – and right now, he was all _hers_.

“I find you handsome enough,” she told him frankly, and the greatest hero of the Genpei War actually _blushed_.

“Get a room, you two,” the _kitsune_ said in a bored tone, “or let us continue to the ceremony.”

They all laughed and walked up the alley with the rest of the festive crowd, through the decorative red front gate of Akama Shrine.

“That is odd,” Tomoe commented. “I thought the fashion had changed a great deal more between your time and ours.”

“It has,” Tosh smiled. “Such traditional robes are only being worn on festivals… and even these are very different from the ones you know from your own era.”

“Yes, I can see that; especially the hairdo,” Tomoe, who had simply put up her long hair in a twist as Tosh had taught her, gave a doubtful look the complicated _shimoda_ -style hairdo the women acting out the ceremony were sporting, with a dozen or so hairpins and elaborate ornaments stuck into it. “Those things would drive me mad within the hour. How can they even sleep with that hair? And it must take forever to be done properly, too.”

“Once, while it was made of one’s own hair, it was a real pain,” Tosh agreed. “Women had to sleep with wooden neck supporters instead of pillows to keep their hair perfect. Today, most of them wear wigs for such occasions. It’s expensive, but more practical.”

The procession had searched the garden of the shrine in the meantime, where a dozen or so roughly hewn standing stones symbolized the name-worthy Taira warriors fallen in the Battle of Dan-no-ura. The spoon-shaped upper parts were almost man-high, rough and grey, marked with the name of the warrior they stood for in elaborate black symbols. A flat horizontal stone was attached to each of the standing ones, decorated with flower arrangements and with incense burning on pieces of charcoal in the hollows of the middle.

The women kneeled before the standing stones, touching their foreheads to the horizontal plates. Then they rose as one with a single, fluid motion, turned and continued their way towards the Child Emperor Antoku’s mausoleum, along a path framed by tall bushes. The path led to a wide wooden bridge, its decorative railing painted bright red, and crossing that bridge, they carried various sacred items – among them the folded, heavy brocade robes of a child and a richly adorned sword – to a gallery overlooking an artificial pond.

The crowd following them remained in respectful distance on the other side of the pond. Only a few selected guests of honour were invited to watch the ceremony from the _tsuridono_ , a small pavilion built over the pond – practically just a roof, lasting on four sturdy, bright red wooden beams.

“Are those guests of honour the descendants of Taira survivors?” Yoshitsune asked.

“Or those who _believe_ to have descended from them, like my mother,” Tosh replied cynically. “Why do you ask?”

“I feel like an intruder,” Yoshitsune admitted. “I know I had no other choice, but all these people whose memory is celebrated here have died because of _me_. Because I was a better tactician, a faster thinker and more merciless than their own warlords.”

“Do you have any regrets?” Tosh asked.

Yoshitsune shook his head. “No; it was them or us, and if I had the choice, I would do the same thing again. I just think I have no right to be here. This is not my place.”

Tomoe, standing on his other side, shrugged. “Paying one’s respect to a worthy foe, even a defeated one, is an honourable thing. Besides, if people didn’t think that you _have_ a place here, they wouldn’t have erected you a memorial at the battle site, would they?”

Yoshitsune remained silent for a moment, acknowledging the truth of her words.

“I believe both Tomomori and Noritsune would find this highly amusing,” he then said with a thin smile. “They both wanted to kill me so badly… and here I am, nine hundred years later, commemorating their heroic deeds and honourable death.”

The Doctor, catching the gist of their conversation, shook his head in bewilderment.

“The things you humans find _amusing_ will never cease to baffle me,” he commented wryly.

The ceremony now continued with the appearance of a _Shintō_ priest on the gallery, wearing the traditional white _kariginu_ , a reminder of the hunting dress of medieval nobles, with a formal _nu-bakama_ , split skirt, and the tall, black hat known as the _eboshi_. He performed a ritual dance, wielding a _harai-gushi_ , a wooden stick with paper streamers attached to one end, which he waved to the left, right, and left at each turn. The ladies kneeling there in the background bowed deeply at certain points, touching their foreheads to the planks.

“Have you found your mother yet?” the Doctor asked Tosh. “I’m getting a signal from the direction of that little pavilion over there… could she be among the guests of honour?”

“No; she could never afford the entrance fee,” Tosh quickly scanned the crowd around the pavilion. “Oh; there she is! And she even has _Ojii-san_ with her – how on Earth has she managed to talk him into this? My grandfather was never that big on tradition. No-one from my father’s side was.”

The _kitsune_ followed the direction of her glance and saw a worn-looking woman in her late forties, wearing a formal but fairly plain kimono. On her side stood a seemingly fragile old man in causal clothes, his hair thinning and snow white, but his eyes still sparkling with amusement in his deeply wrinkled face.

“That is your grandfather?” the _kitsune_ asked. “The one who descended from Satō Tsuginobu and the Lady Moriko?”

Tosh nodded. “That is my grandfather, yes. Satō Hiroshi, the best and bravest man I’ve ever met… no offence intended,” she added hurriedly, looking at Yoshitsune, who simply smiled at her. “Bravery has a different meaning in our time; but even so, _Ojii-san_ has risked everything in the last great war to spare our people unnecessary suffering. Few people have ever learned what he did, as it was done in secrecy and not with any actual weapons. Many would not accept it; but I am proud of him and respect him greatly for it.”

“You don’t need to apologize for holding the head of your family in higher regard than anyone else; more so if he is worth your respect,” Yoshitsune said. “I wish I had known my elders, as they were held in high regard by all. Unfortunately, my father died shortly after I was born… you are most fortunate to know your grandfather. Don’t you wish to greet him and your mother?”

“I cannot,” Tosh sighed. “Three years ago, I was forced to choose between my country and my family. I chose my family and was thrown in prison. I’m not complaining – I’ve deserved it. But then my current master freed me in exchange of serving him for five years. I’m not allowed any personal contact with my family during this time.”

“However, you’re outside of your time now, more or less,” the _kitsune_ pointed out. “I don’t think your master would ever learn it if you broke the rules of the agreement.”

“That may be so,” Tosh replied, “but _I would_ know it. I might live in a time when the old values have changed a lot, but one’s personal honour is still a matter that weighs most heavily.”

“But your elder is old and fragile,” the _kitsune_ reminded her seriously. “He might not live long enough to see your indentured service coming to an end.”

“Perhaps not; and it would break my heart if I had to let him go without saying my final farewells,” Tosh allowed. “But I’ve made a promise, and I’m not gonna break it.”

Yoshitsune gave the fox alien a displeased scowl. “Don’t tempt her, Genkurō. This is hard enough for her as it is.”

The _kitsune_ sketched an elegant bow. “My apologies, Toshiko Gozen. I’ve lived among your people long enough to know better. I just… I can sympathize, I guess. I’ve been separated from my elders and my people way too long myself.”

“No harm done,” Tosh replied, leaning against Yoshitsune, who stiffened for a moment, not used to such public displays of affection, but then wrapped his arms around her.

They watched the ceremony come to and end and her mother and grandfather leave, and Tosh was immensely grateful for his comforting presence.

“Can we leave now, too?” the Doctor asked. “Or is there something else you want to see or do?”

“We can go,” Tosh answered. “I need to pay someone a short visit on our way out, but that won’t take long, I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
They followed the dissolving crowd back across the bridge and along the path seamed with the tall bushes, to the garden with the large standing stones. Tosh walked straight to the stone representing Taira no Tomomori and lit a fresh stick of incense on the horizontal plate.

“Greetings, Taira no Tomomori,” she said quietly. “I promised you that people would still remember you in nine hundred years, didn’t I? As you can see, I am a woman who keeps her promises. Rest in peace – you’ll not be forgotten.”

“When did you promise Tomomori such a thing?” Yoshitsune asked in surprise.

“Right before he’d drown himself, after the lost battle,” Tosh said. “I only knew him for a very short time, but I found him most impressive.”

“He was a fierce warrior and a wise leader of men,” Yoshitsune agreed. “Had _he_ led the Taira forces in all those battles instead of that inept fool Munemori, I’d have a much harder time defeating them.”

“But you _would_ have defeated them nonetheless, wouldn’t you?” Tosh teased.

“Of course,” Yoshitsune declared without the slightest hint of false modesty. “They were good. I am better. Still, Tomomori was a worthy opponent; it is only right that he won’t be forgotten by the generations who will come after us.”

Tosh rose from her knees and smiled at him. “And neither will you. Come now, my shining hero, let us catch up with the others. The stars are waiting.”

“Let’s hope that this time the Doctor’s magical time ship will actually do as we ask and takes us to the stars indeed,” Yoshitsune commented.

Tosh laughed. “Oh, I think she will. She probably thought she owed me this particular trip before we’d set off for the bottomless depths of space. Come; it wouldn’t do if the others left without us, would it?”

Holding hands, they hurried after the Doctor, Tomoe and the _kitsune_ , heading for the hidden place where the TARDIS was waiting in the shadow of a rock, ready to leave the modest shores of Earth and plunge into the dark waters of the cosmic ocean.

~The End - for now~


End file.
